Watching From The Outside
by ermireallydontcare
Summary: As Carlisle and Esme fall in love, Edward is forced to watch on from the outside. But with his talent he sees more than most.
1. The Poor War Widow

**For those of you who have read Their Lives and Love, this could be considered somewhat of an outtake. For those of you who haven't, don't worry, it makes sense as a stand-alone story. The only context you need to know is that Esme had a autistic sister called Grace whose name she used while in hiding in Ashland.**

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><p>Even now, after nearly two years of it, I still enjoyed the silence that being home alone in our house, tucked away in the woods far away from the outskirts of Ashland, could provide after the noisy ramble of thoughts I'd suffered through upon awaking as a vampire in Chicago. Carlisle was working the night shift at the hospital and I was left to amuse myself.<p>

The only problem was that after a few hours of it, I found myself bored. There was only so long books and music could keep you entertained, especially when you had the brain capacity that vampires did.

How Carlisle had managed through all those years of solitude I still struggled to understand.

As strange as the thought would have seemed to me a few years ago, I genuinely did enjoy spending time with Carlisle. Despite the line we had crossed last year with my garbled words about how adopted children could love their new parents as well as their old - that had been an impulsive decision I sometimes regretted. Overall, I still regarded myself as some mixture of companion and son, though I knew Carlisle now liked to view himself as my father. But to me the lines still seemed blurred – if we were now father and son, then what happened next? What façade would we put up next time we moved? Would I still be his dead wife's brother? Or would we be what Carlisle so badly wanted us to be – father and son? I couldn't see how we could incorporate that into the charade.

Unless Carlisle decided to try and claim he fathered a child at six years old. I snorted out loud as that random thought passed through my mind.

We were hardly your typical nuclear family - and not just because we were vampires.

Some times I couldn't help but doubt if I had been too forthcoming with my allowance of letting Carlisle take the role of my father. However, there was no denying that we got along now and I did, in fact, look up to him like you would a father-figure.

But he was still not the man who had raised me. He was not the man I spent my childhood wishing to grow up like.

I sighed out loud. All in all, it was a complicated situation. All I knew was that I was happy at the moment to be Carlisle's companion – a coven of the two of us.

But what Carlisle wanted more than anything in the world – though he never thought it directly I could still tell – was a family.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

I was working on my assignment for college when I heard Carlisle's familiar thought patterns, it was much earlier than I had expected him home.

His thoughts instantly caught my attention. They were garbled and kept flashing through his mind quickly. I managed to make out the image of a girl sat in a hospital bed with a broken leg. Something such as that should have just been mundane work-related thoughts, but Carlisle was excited, exhilarated.

_She's going to make it._ The relief in his thoughts was over-whelming, but it still made little sense to me. His thoughts kept jumping around. Something about a woman. Hoping she would be OK, that she would accept things. In his mind, I saw once more the girl with a broken leg, except she was now a bruised and battered woman lying dead on a morgue drawer. But she was not dead after all – she had a heartbeat and Carlisle's heart soared when he heard it.

Insatiably curious, I rushed out the door just as Carlisle arrived outside.

"Carlisle? What's going on? Your thoughts are all…" I trailed off as I noticed he was holding the woman from his thoughts tightly in his arms. She was thrashing around and twitching in pain. She moaned slightly from the pain - it was such a pathetic sound I couldn't help but pity her. Her thoughts were so weak I could barely register them – they were disturbingly quiet compared to Carlisle's, whose seemed louder than usual due to his emotional state.

But quiet as they were, I could still recognize what she was thinking about. She thought she was on fire as a torturous pain spread through her body. It was an experience I recognized all too well.

But surely Carlisle hadn't? He couldn't? Not again?

"What did you do?" I asked incredulously.

_She was dying, Edward. I couldn't just leave her. _I could hear the plea in Carlisle's thoughts, begging me to understand. I simply couldn't.

_How dare he! What on Earth does he think he is doing? _

How often had he thought back to my own transformation with guilt and vowed he could never put anyone through that again. He had his companion now, he told himself, there would be no need to transform anyone else. It would be selfish. I had respected him for that decision. And he had gone and totally ignored it.

"I have to go to school now," I announced coldly before heading back into the house.

As I gathered my things I listened in very closely to Carlisle's thoughts, trying to see what had caused this colossal lapse of judgement. One we would all pay for. No one more than the poor woman he had picked as his pitiful victim.

I remembered all too well the torture of my newborn year. Now the woman, whoever she was, would have to suffer through that as well.

Unless she chooses to leave us and live traditionally, of course.

Carlisle had laid her down on his bed, taking the utmost care as if she was a fragile china doll. In a way she almost was. Her body was broken. Broken beyond repair to normal eyes.

_Unless one has an over zealous vampire doctor!_ I couldn't help the sarcasm and disgust in my thought. What the hell did Carlisle think he was playing at? I kept asking myself that, kept probing his thoughts for an answer, but none was forthcoming. All he was thinking about was her heartbeat and the sound of her cries. How her heartbeat was louder and her cries stronger. How this meant the venom was healing her body and that meant she would be able to survive.

Her thoughts were slowly getting louder as her broken body mended. Her mental screams were becoming deafening and I had no choice but to flee the house.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

I was barely concentrating as I sat through my lesson. Luckily, it was a revision lesson. Usually these annoyed me senseless, there's nothing more annoying than being forced to listen again to something you can already remember perfectly. But today I was thankful I did not need to concentrate. My mind was too busy thinking about the scene that awaited me when I arrived home. The woman, Grace, would be suffering through the full fires of transformation by now. I had to resist the urge to shudder at the thought – my own transformation was still all too fresh in my mind. Even without the perfect recall memory, it was an experience I would never forget.

For the umpteenth time, I wondered why Carlisle was doing this to her.

I was even more livid now I had learned how she had come to be in the hospital's morgue.

In a small town like Ashland, it doesn't take long for gossip to spread. All it took was the walk through town to the college for me to gather the full story from the minds of the town people.

Grace Platt had lost everything. Her husband to the war and – not twenty four hours previously – her baby to the perils of infant mortality. Having lost so much, it did not surprise the people of Ashland that she had chosen a dramatic end to her own life. A perilous fling from a cliff edge.

Grace had wanted nothing more than to die, and for good reason, and instead Carlisle had chose to tie her to this world for eternity.

Surely, he couldn't have known. If he had known she had committed suicide he would never have chosen to change her. It made no sense to do so.

But the question still remained – why? She was just one of the many corpses Carlisle has seen in various morgues. Why choose to change her? Was it simply because her heart was still beating? Did Carlisle see a slice of hope among the dead and decide to act upon it? Was this all some impulsive enactment of his desire to help, to do everything he could?

But he had seen so many people die. So many patients who had appeared to be making a miraculous recovery and had then failed. He had not stepped in to save them.

So why had he decided that – out of thousands of dying patients – Grace Platt deserved saving?

Had someone begged him to save her and he had cracked, just like with my mother? It seemed the only plausible explanation and yet there had been no trace of it within his thoughts. What there had been was much more confusing. He wanted this woman to change. That seemed the only influence over his decision. But, yet again, why? He did not know her. Had never thought of her before today. Why the sudden urge to want this woman he did not even know?

Or maybe he had known her. After all, he had a memory of her as a girl. How was that possible? It was from before we came to Ashland I was sure. Perhaps even before he came to Chicago.

"Class is over, Mr. Masen."

I had been so distracted by my own thoughts that I hadn't been paying attention to everyone else's. I was getting better at that, pushing other people's thoughts to the back of my mind. Sometimes, like today, when I was preoccupied, I was almost too good.

I give an apologetic smile at my teacher, and, careful not to do so too fast, I gathered my books and pens into my bags and left the classroom.

As usual, I walked over to look out the first window down the corridor. The cloud cover was quite thick at the moment, I should be perfectly able to get home without risking exposure.

I continued on my way to the exit of the college at a leisurely human pace, I had no real desire to head home. I would no doubt end up in some form of confrontation with Carlisle and I had no real desire to share Grace's thoughts as she transformed.

As I walked through town I listened carefully for any mention of Grace, or us, as usual. But, aside from learning that Carlisle had supposedly sent Grace's body to a medical school, I learned nothing new.

When I reached the lane that led to our secluded farmhouse there were no humans in the vicinity, so I veered off into the woods, where I could run home without the risk of being spotted. This close to home there was no point dawdling anymore. May as well get home and get things over with.

I knew it was vindictive of me, but a part of me wanted to see and hear Carlisle's shock when he learned what he had done. Maybe then he would understand the stupidity and irresponsibility of his actions.

I could hear Carlisle praying as I arrived near the house. Praying that she would forgive him. So he wasn't without some knowledge of the side effects of his selfish actions. Maybe he did learn something from my reaction to my change after all.

Grace's thoughts were still fairly incoherent as she suffered through the fires. But from the snatches I got I understood that she thought she was in Hell. It was a logical conclusion – one I had considered myself very briefly. It made even more sense in her case, she had taken her own life. To Christians that was a sin – one that locked you out of the kingdom of Heaven.

Once inside the house, I went straight up to Carlisle's bedroom. Grace was thrashing around on his bed wildly but it was her thoughts that caught my attention

Her only real concern with being trapped in Hell for eternity was that she would never see her son, William, again.

She would learn in a few days this wasn't Hell, but nothing could ever change the fact that she would indeed never see William again. Just like I would never see my family again.

Anger flared up in me once more. What right did Carlisle have to deny either of us a peaceful death?

"Isn't your hospital shift soon?" I asked frostily.

"Would you be able to go the hospital, please, and tell them I've fallen ill and will be unable to come in for a while?"

As he said this I noticed he was clutching Grace's hand in his. He had tightened his grip when I had mentioned that he had to leave.

_I can't leave her here, Edward. _He was pleading again. Pleading for me to understand. What I was suppose to be understanding I didn't know. None of this made sense. Carlisle's usually calm and organized mind was still a jumbled mess. Even he didn't understand so how he expected me to I didn't know.

As I turned to leave, I gave an over-exaggerated sigh, to make my annoyance at being sent on errands - so that he could stay and clutch the hand of a transforming suicidal woman who would no doubt hate him passionately in two days time - very clear to my creator.

But I paused in the doorway, unable to stop myself.

"The entire town is talking about the poor war widow who lost her baby and jumped of a cliff. Did you know that?" I spat at him angrily.

_She lost her baby? Is that why she jumped? _So he had known. He had known she had killed herself and he had still chosen to change her without a thought about why she had done so.

"You didn't know, did you? You changed her, but you don't know anything about her. She wanted to die! She still does. So why? Why would you change her? What possible reason could you have for doing this? You know nothing about her!" I ranted at him, my anger finally overflowing.

"Her name's Grace Platt by the way, since you probably don't even know that," I added bitterly.

"No," he said gently. "Her name's Esme. Grace is her sister," he told me confidentially. I looked at him questioningly.

Once more I saw Grace (or Esme even) as a teenager with a broken leg. I watched as the two of them talked about how she had fallen from a tree, how she had been hiding up there with her sister, and then she reluctantly admitted that her sister was 'different'. Carlisle noted the way she spoke of her sister with such love and it touched his own heart.

"You've never shown me this before," I stated accusingly.

Carlisle could not deny this – he had done it on purpose. He was not proud of how he had acted afterwards. How much she had affected him. How, starved for company, he had desperately wanted to share hers once more. But, despite all that, he had left and forced himself to promise himself not to dwell on her.

"Clearly, that turned out well," I remarked sarcastically. "I suppose I should go tell the hospital you won't be going." With that last line I took my leave – it was growing increasingly hard to ignore Grace- Esme's internal screams.

I walked distractively at a human pace, heading down the lane back into town without any real plan.

I now had my answer to the question of why Carlisle had chosen to change a random suicidal woman. To him, she wasn't random.

However, this only infuriated me more. If I sometimes –when I was in temper with him– thought he had been selfish for changing me, it was nothing compared to the selfishness of his actions now. A woman who wanted to join her baby in death and he had kept her around for his own selfish desire.

All Carlisle's affection for Esme Platt meant was that it was going to hurt him even more when it turned out she now despised him.

I almost felt pity for him until I reminded myself he had brought this on himself.

I had reached the outskirts of Ashland by now. Less people were thinking about 'Grace' now, as a topic of gossip she had been extinguished. Everyone had been informed of her jump and there was no need to gossip over why she had felt the need to do so – it was obvious.

A woman a couple of streets away was thinking about how she had to box 'Grace's' things up to take them to charity. There was nothing I could do to stop Esme's transformation, but I may as well attempt to help her. After all, she was the victim here.

I purposefully arrived outside the house just as the two women were leaving.

"Good evening, Mrs. Williamson, Mrs. Taylor," I greeted them kindly.

"Oh, hello, Edward," said Mrs. Williamson. She nodded to the boxes on the floor, containing Esme's few meagre possessions. "I suppose you've heard the news about Mrs. Platt." In her mind she was thinking about 'Grace', how impatient and excited she had been for the birth of her child, and what it was a tragedy it was that it worked out like this.

"Yes," I replied solemnly. "Carlisle saw them bring her body into the morgue."

"Such a waste," she muttered to herself with a shake of her head. I was taken back by how genuinely upset she appeared to be over Esme's death.

"She was a nice lady," Mrs. Williamson's daughter said from behind her mother's skirt. She was thinking about how Mrs. Platt had always been nice to her, even when she got the question wrong, unlike the horribly strict teacher they'd had before her.

"She was," Mrs. Taylor agreed. "Our Harry started to actually enjoy school after she took over."

That was one thing I'd noticed, though a few people thought the circumstances she had arrived in were a bit suspicious, no-one in Ashland who had known her seemed to have a bad word to say or think about Esme.

"Well," Mrs. Williamson said with a sigh, "I suppose we best take these clothes over to the charity shop."

"I could take them if you liked," I offered, with a kind smile. "I'm heading over to the college library anyway and would walk straight past."

"Thank you, Edward, that's very kind of you," Mrs. Williamson replied with a weak smile.

"It's not a problem," I reassured her as I easily picked up both boxes. "I suppose I best be going."

I left both women thinking about what a sweet little young man I was.

Carlisle looked questioningly at the boxes when I arrived home. I had to take them into his room to show him, as he had not moved from the exact same spot where I had left him, still clutching Esme's hand as though clinging on for dear life.

"Her neighbors were clearing her things out to give to charity. I offered to take them," I explained. "I'm quite the sweet little young man, apparently," I added dryly.

_Thank you, Edward. I know you don't approve of what I've done, but I'm proud of you for rising above that to help._

"You're right, I don't approve. But that's not going to stop me from helping _her_." Carlisle did not miss the intended emphasis on the last word. I looked over at Esme, her thoughts were more or less the same as when I had left – that she was in Hell and the fires were her punishment for taking her own life. I had no idea if she would prefer the truth or not – all she wanted was to be reunited with her son. But she was never entering Heaven, surely this life would be just as bad as Hell for her.

Carlisle noticed then that Esme's human scent lingered on the clothes in the boxes in my hands. I had noticed this as well but it was nothing too concerning. I was surprised therefore when I felt Carlisle's throat burn painfully from it, worse than I had ever seen him before. Esme's scent was a lot more potent to him than it was me. I resisted the urge to cringe as he thought about the taste of her blood as he changed her, it was making my throat burn as well at the thought.

"Go hunt, Carlisle, I'll watch her," I offered.

"No. I'll be fine," Carlisle replied instantly, mentally recoiling from the idea of leaving her side. "We can all go hunt together once she has woken up. Do you think you can go place those in the spare bedroom please?"

I huffed to show my annoyance at his stubbornness – now I would have to suffer through as he did – before leaving the room and dumping the boxes in the spare room.

Annoyed once more, I headed to my piano, hoping it would calm me as usual. Unfortunately, the music was not enough to drown out the thoughts from next door. I wasn't sure whose I wanted to block out more, Carlisle's or Esme's, though for entirely different reasons.

I cringed when I heard Carlisle think that _his son_ was playing the keys with too much force. I had definitely been too forthcoming with my decision a year ago.

Carlisle was not my father. He was just a selfish man who made others suffer alongside him.

He was now re-thinking my last words.

_Does he see Esme as just another victim of my selfishness like him?_

_Yes, I do, Carlisle. _I was pressing the piano keys too hard now, I forced myself to calm down slightly before I broke something.

_He has every right to be angry. I've stopped her from joining her husband and son, just like I stopped him from joining his parents. I am lucky he ever forgive me, truly I don't think he has, despite all the improvements in our relationship in the last year. _

So he was finally catching on to the selfishness of his actions then.

_At least he has stayed. Will she hate me enough to leave? Could I face it if she chose to leave? But I can't force her to stay. It would be her choice, of course._

I resisted the temptation to laugh bitterly at that. He was trying to tell himself it was her choice while desperately hoping she would stay. It was pathetic. More so because the idea of her choosing to stay was ridiculous. At least I knew he had changed me because he thought my life had been taken from me too early – I could forgive him for that. Begrudgingly, but I could. But how could a suicidal woman ever forgive him? She had wanted to die – wanted it more than anything in the world. She had chosen to die and he had taken that choice away from her.

There was nothing either of us could do now but wait. Wait and see how she reacted when she woke up. And so that was what we did. For three days Carlisle remained unmovable at his spot by her bedside, while I attempted to go about my normal life as much as possible.

It was the afternoon of the third day, when I had been attempting to do some homework to no avail thanks to the loudness of the thoughts in the room beside mine, that I heard Esme's heartbeat sped up rapidly. She had been thinking for the last hour how the pain seemed to be receding and wondering what it meant. She would find out soon enough.

_Edward, her transformation is nearly complete. _

I joined Carlisle at her bedside and we both listened as her heartbeat became impossibly fast and then, with one final thump, stopped.

Carlisle was anxious about her reaction, as he should have been.

_Will she hate me? Will she wish I had left her to die like she had intended to?_

Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing vivid red eyes. She sat up in one fluid movement and her eyes locked on Carlisle. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Dr… Dr Cullen?" she murmured, staring unbelievingly at him.

Relief flooded her every thought. She thought Carlisle was an angel. An angel come to save her at last.

Carlisle was dazed that she remembered him. I was too. This was not an normal reaction to seeing the doctor who treated your broken leg a decade ago.

She was shocked. Shocked and unbelieving, but happy. Overly happy.

It appeared Carlisle had affected her as badly as she had affected him.

One thing was certain – Esme Platt would not be going anywhere.

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><p><strong>I'd love to hear your feedback for this chapter :)<strong>


	2. Well, This Complicates Things

"Esme?" Carlisle called her name tentatively, watching her reaction closely. She was still staring at him disbelievingly.

_If this is Hell, then why is he here? _

I could hear the awe in her thoughts. She saw Carlisle as something above her, as her saviour. I wondered how long that would last. I would have believed the answer to that would be not very long at all, only till she learns what he has done to her, except her thoughts so far had been nothing like what I had expected them to be.

She looked around her, taking in her surroundings and noticed with confusion the improvement to her eyesight and hearing. It was then she spotted me stood beside Carlisle.

Her thoughts made no sense then, as she focused on me. There was a rush of relief and joy. Suddenly, she thought this was Heaven. That she had been re-deemed.

_William_. Her thought was laced with love and tenderness. She was wondering why I was teen, then decided she did not care. Then I realized. It was her son's name. She thought I was her son.

"William?" she cried excited, flinging her arms around me before I had a change to correct her. Her grip was so tight it hurt, she did not know yet that she was stronger than me. She was sobbing with delight into my shoulder and her joy was so great I was loathed to destroy it, but I had no choice.

"I'm not your son, Esme," I told her as gently as possible. She finally let go and took a step back. Looking at me more closely, she saw the differences that proved I wasn't her son. But still she did not give up hope, she was so certain that this was Heaven and we were angels. That Carlisle was an angel and therefore I was, too, as I shared his pale skin and golden eyes. She began to look around wildly, convinced William had to be here somewhere.

"This is Edward, Esme," Carlisle told her softly.

"Sorry," she murmured, apologetic.

She was still confused, unable to understand what was happening. Her confidence was beginning to waver as her son still did not make a reappearance.

She was staring at Carlisle again, making observations this time, such as how he had not aged since she last saw him. I was shocked by how vividly she remembered that hospital trip. Everything about him, stored away carefully in her memory. But she was dismissive of her observations this time, her excitement at seeing Carlisle had been dimmed somewhat by William's lack of reappearance.

"You're too late," she told him bitterly.

I saw in her mind how she used to wish for Carlisle to save her – from what she did not think about, I had a feeling that was purposeful. How she used to see him as this almost mystical figure, who would come along and help her like he had when she was a teenager.

But now she was angry – all those times she had wished for his help and he had shown up now, when her son was dead and she was beyond his help. This was more like the reaction I had been expected.

She wanted answers. Explanations for everything. Why Carlisle was here. Why she was here. Why, in her own words, she wasn't 'even allowed to die in peace?'

And she was justified in her desire to know the truth – whether she would like it or not she deserved answers to her questions, even though it would shatter her illusions of Carlisle as an angel. It was time for Carlisle to face up to the decision he had made. But I was less certain about her reaction now.

"You need to tell her, Carlisle, now," I insisted. I made it sound a lot more urgent than it was. She was no where near as close to exploding as Carlisle worried she was. But I wanted this over with.

She was taken by surprise by my use of Carlisle's first name– she had never learned what it was. But she brushed it aside without realizing it was his name, her main focus was on what he had to tell her.

"Where am I? Where's my son? Is this Heaven?" she asked frantically.

"No, Esme, this isn't Heaven," Carlisle said sadly.

"Far from it," I muttered darkly, causing Carlisle to send me a disapproving look.

"So where am I?" she asked again. She was trying to sound assertive but it didn't work, she sounded like a lost child.

"Do you remember what you did?" Carlisle asked her softly. That was a stupid question – of course she did, she was hardly likely to forget.

"I … I jumped off the cliff. Does that mean I'm dead?"

"Well, yes and no," Carlisle replied cautiously.

_Way to avoid the question, Carlisle._

Esme was simply confused.

"Oh, just tell her already, Carlisle," I said exasperatedly.

I expected her to be on tether hooks waiting for the explanation Carlisle was so unwilling to give, but she was concentrating more on that fact that she had realized that Carlisle was the first name of the man she only knew as Dr. Cullen.

_What a nice name. Dr. Carlisle Cullen, it suits him. _

I couldn't help but snort diversely at that. She still had no explanation for the strange situation she had found herself in, yet was concentrating on how nice Carlisle's name was. It was ridiculous. Even she agreed with me that it was a weird reaction.

"Esme, I've … changed you. I've made you like Edward and me. You were nearly dead when I found you, it was the only way to save you."

"Ch … changed me?" she asked, just as confused as ever. Carlisle was failing miserably at explaining the situation. I knew it was vaguely sadistic of me, but I was enjoying watching him squirm. He had brought this on himself, after all.

"Edward and me, we're," Carlisle hesitated, nervous of her reaction. He was scared she would hate him when she knew the truth. However, I was no longer confident she would turn against Carlisle as soon as she knew the truth. She might be angry at him, but I could tell she would forgive him. This is what she appeared to have been dreaming of for years. That Dr. Cullen would come along and rescue her. Though I doubt she ever imagined it would happen like this.

"Vampires," he finally managed to say. "I've made you into one too, Esme."

Finally, she knew the truth. She just stared at us in shock, her thoughts were unbelieving, scornful, thinking she must have heard us wrong.

"Par … pardon?" she stuttered.

"I've made you into a vampire," Carlisle repeated gravely. She laughed nervously then, hoping this was all some big joke, still unable to comprehend the possibility of it being real.

She changed tact then and decided it was dream. She took Carlisle's presence here as proof. The thought calmed her – she could excuse away everything that had happened to her in the last four days. She would wake up and still be heavily pregnant. That was what she wanted, what she yearned for so badly. Dr. Cullen was just a silly daydream, but her son would be a tangible, real happiness.

She closed her eyes, waiting to wake up.

Carlisle was watching her nervously, still waiting for her reaction to her change.

"You're not dreaming, Esme. This is real. It was all real," I told her softly. She still refused to believe me, clinging desperately onto her desire for this to be a dream. For that could mean she was still pregnant, that her son wasn't dead, that she would get the life with him that she wished for.

"Esme, this is real," Carlisle told her reassuringly.

Almost unwillingly, her eyelids fluttered open as the unfortunate truth settled in. This was not a dream. And Dr. Cullen, the angel she had wished after for a decade, had just told her he was a vampire. That she was a vampire.

"Vampire?" she squeaked. "As in, blood sucking, burning in the sunlight, avoiding garlic, vampires?" she asked hysterically, listening all the attributes the myths gave our kind.

I give another snort at the look of discomfort on Carlisle's face. This was even better than if she had been angry. She was just so unwilling to believe – she was really drawing out Carlisle's misery, albeit unintentionally. And though I knew it was heartless of me, I was really enjoying watching it. As I kept telling myself, somewhat smugly, it was his own fault for changing her to begin with. This was his comeuppance.

"Only one of three," I informed her, trying not to smirk too much.

"Many of the myths about us are incorrect," Carlisle attempted to explain, but he really wasn't helping. He hadn't told her the all important detail – I was certain he didn't want to.

"Which one is correct?" she asked with trepidation. She considered the three options and decided she would prefer it best of all if the one about garlic was true since she had never really liked it to begin with. I had to repress the desire to laugh. I could already tell her reaction was going to be entertaining for me to watch.

Carlisle was too intent on watching Esme's reaction to pay me any attention, but Esme had noticed.

_What could possibly be so funny?_

"The first one," Carlisle told her.

_They drink blood? Will I have to drink blood? _Her thoughts were re-coiling in disgust.

"Yes, you will." I told her.

_Did I ask that out loud?_

She was momentarily distracted by my ability to answer her thoughts but she was quickly distracted by the bigger picture.

"I'll have to kill someone?" she shouted hysterically.

"No, Esme, not if you don't wish to. Edward and me live differently from the rest of our kind. We feed of animals."

_Animals? I guess that is preferable. _

Despite her relief at the fact she wouldn't have to kill a human, she tried to imagine herself draining an animal of its blood and decided she simply couldn't do it. This was just getting better and better.

My mirth ended when she started thinking about the burn in her throat, as always this caused my own throat to burn as well. I warned Carlisle that she was thirsty, neglecting to mention my own. I would lay bets he hadn't even thought about that when he changed her – how I was going to have to share thoughts with a thirsty newborn. I felt my frustration at him growing once more – no he hadn't thought about me at all had he.

"Esme, we need to take you to hunt. That burning in your throat – that's your thirst. Drinking blood is the only way to cool it," Carlisle told her. She still didn't really understand, because she was still unwilling to believe she was a vampire, but she nodded anyway.

They both stared at each other expectedly, waiting for the other one to move.

"Just go, Carlisle, she'll follow us," I said. Esme decided I was being rather grumpy. I glowered at her, I hadn't asked for a psycho-analysis.

Neither of them moved still, so I left the room. Finally, after Carlisle messing around opening the door for her, they joined me outside the house.

"So … how exactly do..vampires hunt?" She thought we would be hunting with guns, she really had not got her head around the vampire thing yet. "What do you use?"

"We don't need to use anything," Carlisle explained "Other than are speed, strength, teeth, and venom."

"I'm sorry. Are you expecting me to kill this animal _with my teeth_? As in … pouncing on it and biting?" she asked incredulously.

"That's the general idea, yes," the doctor said, looking at her concerned. His was apprehensive about her reaction. He was right to be so.

"No!" she said stubbornly. She crossed her arms defiantly and I half-expected her to stomp her foot. "There is no way I'm going to go into the forest and take down some poor little defenceless animal by biting it to death so I can suck its blood. It's absurd. Ridiculous. Preposterous. It's … it's … just not going to happen."

"Would you prefer to go into town and kill the entire population?" I asked her sharply, fed up with her little hissy fit. The more we talked about this, the more my throat tortured me.

That brought her up cold.

_I wouldn't? Would I? Surely not? I … I couldn't kill anyone!_

"Edward!" Carlisle scolded me, angry at me for upsetting her.

"Esme, I understand the idea may be distasteful, but you need to try. Please?" Her earlier response had him worried. Would she not be able to adapt to life as a vampire? Would she then hate him for forcing it on her?

She nodded then, willing to blindly trust Carlisle.

_Well, he's the angel after all,_ I thought to myself sarcastically.

"We'll show you how to run, vampire style," I told her with a grin. I was sure her response to this was going to be just as entertaining as everything else.

"Edward's very fast. But as a newborn you may be even faster than him," Carlisle smirked at me and I huffed in annoyance. "I have to say, it may be fun to watch you get beaten for a change." I narrowed my eyes at the challenge and then ran away at my quickest. I heard Esme's amazement at the speed and Carlisle's amusement at my reaction.

A mile into the forest I sensed a herd of deer, I stopped to wait for the two of them. I could tell Esme's reaction to her first hunt was going to be priceless.

I was provided right.

As soon as she realized what Carlisle expected her to do she started getting soppy over how beautiful deer were.

I gave an overdramatic sigh, shooting Carlisle a significant look. He looked back questioningly, but Esme soon explained my theatrics with some of her own.

"No!" she exclaimed again. She stamped her foot into the forest floor in frustration. I smirked more, I had been right about that.

The smirk soon washed off my face when she once more decided that this was all just a dream. It should have been merely irritating, but the way she thought about how she could only dare to be this brave and stand up for what she believed for in her dreams worried me. There was an underlying fear there – one I had noticed before, when she thought of being rescued.

With that thought, things suddenly stopped being amusing. What had happened to this poor woman Carlisle had picked as the victim of his strange desire? I remembered it once more, the need he had felt to save her. It still made no sense to me.

"Esme?" Carlisle asked worried.

She shook her head determinedly. "I'm not doing this. I'm sorry to have dragged you out to the middle of the forest for no reason, but I'm not going to do this."

"Yes, you are," I told her. It came out more harsh-sounding than I had intended. Yes, her persistent silliness about hunting was annoying, but I could tell she wasn't being so on purpose. She was just so kind-hearted the idea of having to kill an animal dismayed her. But that was why she had to hunt now. If she felt this bad about the idea of killing a deer, how would she feel if she killed a human?

Carlisle sent me another warning look because of my harsh tone. I probably deserved that one.

"Esme, what exactly is it that's bothering me?" Carlisle asked her, overly kind.

"I, I don't want to have to attack a sweet little deer."

"Esme, did you ever eat venison as a human?" Despite realizing how he was about to trap her, she nodded. "And how is this any different?"

"I never had to actually kill it for myself. It's not very lady-like."

I had to give her points for still trying. Her words made Carlisle squirm a little bit inside – another plus as far as I was confirmed.

Carlisle sighed. "Will you try, please?" Esme nodded while wondering how of Earth he had got her to agree to this. She looked at us both expectedly.

Now she had finally made her mind up, she followed Carlisle's instructions with sudden unexpected determination. I had to admire her for that – the determination to do what she set her mind to. She shared that trait with both myself and Carlisle.

As she took down a deer and experienced her first taste of blood, my own throat burned painfully and I followed her after the herd. Like always, the deer blood did not cool my throat entirely, but it certainly helped matters.

When the deer's corpse was spent, I turned my attention back to Carlisle and Esme. Esme was still hunting – her newborn thirst harder to quench than even mine. Carlisle came to stand beside me, both of us watching Esme.

_How are you?_

"I'm fine," I replied coolly. It was true. Esme had reacted no where like how I had expected. There had been silly temper tantrums, but no real ire. She was so dizzily happy to be reunited with Dr. Cullen. All my anger on her behalf had been wasted.

Carlisle looked at me disbelievingly. The look was reflected in his thoughts.

"She reacted differently then I expected," I admitted.

_She truly isn't angry at me?_ He tried to disguise the mixture of distress and relief in his thoughts. He failed miserably.

I shook my head.

Esme drained the last of the blood out of her second deer corpse. She probably would have instinctually hunted more, but the herd had all either managed to escape the clearing or been killed. The first thing she noticed was her bloodstained clothes – just like myself as a newborn she had spilt a lot of blood in the process of hunting. I waited for some vain, feminine annoyance at the ruining of her clothes, but she was unconcerned since they were the same clothes she had jumped in. Carlisle had debated whether we should change her into a clean dress before she woke up, but decided that she would not appreciate learning two strange men had dressed her. I had felt that was a prudent decision, but I wasn't sure about that now as I had felt the sting of misery as she looked down to find she was still wearing the same clothes she had previously attempted to kill herself in.

As soon as she looked towards us, Carlisle went to stand next to her. As they talked I began the process of hiding the deer corpses, burying them in a hole before covering them with a tree.

"Did he just pick up a tree?" Esme stuttered in shock as she noticed what I was doing.

"We have to hide the evidence of our feeding," Carlisle explained. "Would you like to try?" I could tell she wasn't going to go for that. I was right. She looked at him sceptically again.

_I can't pick up trees!_

"I'll show you," Carlisle told her, proceeding to bury her two deer corpses the same way I had just hidden my own.

"I can't pick up trees though," she protested. So far, she had struggled with the concept of vampirism more than I ever had – I had been willing to believe it quite readily after my first hunt – but she seemed especially unable to believe this one.

Carlisle smiled at her. "Actually, you're the strongest one here," he informed her softly. Still she struggled to understand – the main issue seemed to be that she couldn't possibly be stronger than two men. Such a human sentiment.

"Those of us have just been created have extra strength due to the human blood still left in their bodies," Carlisle explained further since she was just standing there looking confused

"I'm really stronger than you both?" she asked in amazement. She truly couldn't get her head round that fact. I was about to laugh at her confusion but her next thought stopped me dead. Suddenly it was all to clear why she was struggling so badly with the idea of being stronger, as well as a possible explanation for a few other things.

She had never been the strongest. She was always the weakest. Weak enough to be controlled and beaten. She stopped herself then, telling herself it was all in the past, where it belonged, and that was where it should stay.

All my amusement at laughing at the reactions of the silly little woman Carlisle had been stupid enough to change drained from me.

What had happened to her? Who had beaten and controlled her? That must have been why she was in Ashland. Why she had been using a false name. She had been hiding from this unknown, despicable person. But why would anyone want to beat her up? Judging on what I had heard in the thoughts of the townspeople of Ashland, she was a genuinely nice person. Even though she had annoyed me slightly today, I could still tell by her thoughts that they were right. She had been dealing with a bizarre situation today, but all her thoughts had still been full of care. For the son she lost. For the people (and animals) she had so determinedly not wanted to kill.

So who would want to hurt this sweet woman who wouldn't hurt a fly? (Though that saying was probably not appropriate given that she had just attacked and killed two deer.)

I realized she had noticed I was staring at her. I almost blanched as I saw the look in my eyes. Esme didn't know how to describe it. She saw the pity and the confusion, but there was no denying she was right when she also saw anger there. Why had someone decided to hurt someone like her?

"Shall we head back now, Carlisle?" I asked, forcing myself to keep my voice calm.

"Of course. Unless you would like to hunt some more, Esme?" Carlisle asked her, oblivious to what had just happened.

Esme shook her head; she'd had more than enough of hunting for one day.

I ran off ahead of them without a word, needing to clear my head.

I already knew there was nothing I could do with this information. I had a feeling Esme would not want to discuss whatever had happened to her. As she had told herself, it was in the past where it belonged, and I could not hold it against her that she wanted to keep it there.

But, as much as I was sure he would like to know so he could help her, I could not tell Carlisle either. That would have been an even bigger breach of her privacy.

Just as I arrived home, Esme sped in front of me, so we arrived back at the same time. I wasn't use to that, Carlisle always trailed behind, much to my entertainment. Thanks to Esme I couldn't even smirk at him like usual as he arrived back shortly afterwards.

"Sulking, Edward?" he joked. I glared back. Through Esme's mind I realized I was pouting. I quickly stopped myself. Esme was still remembering a pupil of hers who used to pout when he didn't get his own way. She remembered him with a tender warmth. She smiled fondly at the memory and then turned to smile at me, trying to show me that she didn't mean any harm.

I knew that she had not, and therefore smiled back. This relived her greatly. It only confirmed what I had thought about her being a genuinely good person.

Which only made the question of what had happened to her that more confusing, as well as disturbing.

"Well done, Esme," I praised her. "It's not often someone can keep up with me. The old man here always lags behind" I smirked over at Carlisle, getting him back for the earlier 'sulking' comment.

"You're very funny, Edward," Carlisle replied dryly. But inwardly he was relieved that we had returned to there being a more cheery manner between us. He never did enjoy it when we fought. I was surprised to realize he was right about my manner. I never had been able to stay angry with him and his calm collected thoughts for long. It appeared adding Esme's gentle thoughts to the mix made it even more difficult.

Esme was watching the banter between the two of us with a smile. She was the calmest she had been since she had woke up – she saw the natural camaraderie between the two of us and it relaxed her. She liked being around people her laughed and joked with each other. This was not surprising. Judging by what I had seen, it was not something she experienced often in her human life.

Her relaxed state of mind lasted until she caught sight of her reflection in the small mirror that was hung in the hallway.

"Is … is that me?" she asked, cringing.. "My … my eyes."

"The red color eventually fades if you stick with out diet," Carlisle told her gently. He had been expecting this reaction but it still saddened him. He really didn't like watching her upset. "There is a lot we still need to tell you. Would you like to come and sit down with us?"

As Carlisle explained more about vampires in general and our particular lifestyle, she sat listening with a sort of calm distance. She was still, despite having hunted, struggling to accept the idea that _she _was a vampire. She understand that we were, but struggled to comprehend it in relation to herself. But when she interrupted to ask about the side effect of being in the sun (that was the part that took her by surprise the most, as it had me, you don't usually associate glittering with blood-sucking monsters) she used the pronoun 'we' not 'you'. She understood and yet she didn't want to.

"I'll show you next time it's sunny," Carlisle promised. He wondered how she would react, which was quickly a norm with him. If anything would show her she wasn't human anymore it was that.

"Edward managed to get possession of your belongings, we placed them in the spare room. Would you like me to show you?"

"Yes, please." She followed Carlisle up to the spare room.

I listened in as Carlisle showed her the boxes, they were both being overly formal and polite to each other making the conversation sound stilted. I understood Esme's reaction, she had every reason to be unsettled after all that happened, but not Carlisle's. He had never acted like this when I was a newborn.

"You're welcome, Esme," I said after she told Carlisle to thank me. She briefly wondered how I had heard her, before remembering my hearing was just as good as hers now was.

I started to tune out as she began to unpack – though I had to smile when she ripped the box open with her new strength and sent her belongings flying everywhere.

I was trying to think about what would happen next, as Esme was hardly like I had expected her to be, but I was distracted by Carlisle and Esme's intense embarrassment after Carlisle accidentally handed her a chemise while trying to help her pick up her possessions.

Hoping to move past the awkwardness as soon as possible, he moved to pick up the last object, a blue woollen item of clothing, and passed it to her.

With discomforting swiftness, the entire mood changed. The blue object turned out to be William's baby blanket, and as she stared at it she remembered knitting it for him. Once that memory had been allowed past her mental barrier, more trickled through, until she could not stop the flood, each thought as devastating as the last. I watched through Carlisle's eyes as Esme collapsed onto the bed under the onslaught of her human memories. I growled furiously, my temper was beyond my control, as I was forced to watch the pain and humiliation Esme suffered through at her husband's hands.

Carlisle, thoroughly confused by the change of attitude, took a step closer to her, murmuring words of comfort.

In her current mindset, Esme completely misread what he was doing. She stood up into a defensive crouch and hissed at him suspiciously. But as soon as her instinctive reaction was over, she backed against the wall, feeling the hopelessness she associated with her husband attacking her. She could never stop him. She was just a weak woman, powerless to do anything.

Carlisle was watching her helplessly, backing away slowly, as well, to show he meant her no harm. His arms were raised in the sign of surrender. He had understand her angry response earlier, assuming she was just acting like a newborn, but he could not understand why she was staring at him so fearfully. Almost hatefully.

I found myself standing in the doorstep. I had been so intent upon their thoughts I hadn't even realized I had moved towards the spare room in my anger.

Carlisle was backed against the wall now. I almost cringed as I heard his thoughts – he thought it was something he had done that had upset her so much. But he would never do something like the atrocities she had suffered through. No matter how angry I had been at him for the last few days – I knew he was too good a man for that.

Esme's mind had cleared of everything we had told her – she had even forgotten the joyous news she was stronger than us. All she could see as she looked at the pair of us was two men, and she felt as helpless and vulnerable as she'd always been in her previous life.

Carlisle was trying his hardest to show her without words he meant no harm, I did the same, trying to hide any trace of anger from my face. But it was no use. She had been conditioned to expect anger and accept it as normal. It would take a lot for us to make her think otherwise.

"Please don't hurt me," she pleaded. She was hoping desperately for it to work, yet didn't think it would. Pleading was never enough to save her.

I heard Carlisle's devastation at her words, still trying desperately to figure out where her fear stemmed from, terrified that it had been him who caused it.

"Esme, I don't mean you any harm," he told her, trying to make the words sound as soothing as possible. Tentatively, he took a slight step forward.

As he did so Esme whimpered, she was unable to listen to his words and understand he wasn't a threat. She only expected violence. It was what she deserved, after all.

I hiss came out my mouth unbidden. I was unable to control my fury. How could someone make this woman feel so worthless and get away with it?

"Stay there, Carlisle!" I ordered, it came out harsher than I had attended as I was so unnerved by Esme's response to his actions, even though I knew that he had no attention of hurting her.

Carlisle was still watched Esme intently, as she stared anxiously back at him, wondering what he would do to her and how much it would hurt.

_Perhaps the most prudent option is to allow her to be alone, since it is clearly me she is terrified of._

He glanced in my direction and I give a small nod to show him this was indeed the best choice of action.

"We'll leave you to get comfortable then," he told her, before exiting the room. I heard Esme's relief at his words and as he left Carlisle saw it, written plainly all over her face. It cut through him, making him wonder once more what he had done.

I followed him to his office so as to disburse him of the ridiculous notion that it was something he had done that had caused this.

He was listening intently to the sound of Esme sobbing in her room. Her thoughts were a despairing mess – a mixture of terrifying memories and annoyance at herself for her reaction to the good doctor. She hated to think that she had upset poor Dr. Cullen. Now the moment of terror was over she was able to think straight, at least in regards to who it was she should fear.

_I didn't mean her any harm,_ Carlisle thought at me. He thought I was angry at him for whatever transgression he had done. Esme's thoughts were getting louder, as she thought about how this was all her fault, just like everything was her fault. She thought of William's death and her jump from the cliff, and how none of it would have happened if she hadn't been stupid enough to run away.

"It's not what _you_ did," I growled, unable to control my anger while Esme's self-depreciating thoughts screamed in my head. She kept blaming herself, thinking it was all her fault her son had died. It disgusted me to have to listen to this obviously kind woman blame herself for a retched man's actions.

"I need to clear my head," I announced and headed to my own room. I had meant to explain better to Carlisle that this was not his fault, but I couldn't. Not while her thoughts of despair drowned out my own. Not when she was telling herself over and over again that she had brought this on herself. That maybe it wouldn't be long before Dr. Cullen turned on her as well, because isn't that what she deserved? I wanted to go into her room and tell her she was wrong, but I stopped myself – that would only terrify her more. She would have to realize that by herself – the only help we could give her was to show her we were nothing like her former monster of a husband.

I started playing my piano – my usual solution when I needed to calm down. The music was loud and stormy but I couldn't help it, it was the only way I had to work through my anger.

Playing alone was not enough to drown out Esme's thoughts, I tried listening into Carlisle's instead but his were no better. He was pretending to read in the living room while his mind churned over the events of the morning.

Louder and louder the music got, until Carlisle thought at me that it was probably disturbing Esme. In fact, she wasn't paying any attention to the music to wrapped up in her own thoughts. However, I changed the music's tone to satisfy Carlisle. The soothing music probably benefited him more than her. Though her thoughts had calmed down significantly, I would not have been able to play so calmly if they hadn't. She was no longer screaming at herself, but quiet and pensive. She was telling herself that no one had attacked her here yet. The 'yet' made me cringe. We _had_ to prove to her we would not do that.

Below me, Carlisle was thinking the very same thing. He may not have seen her thoughts, but he was putting the pieces together. Her suicide. The dates that didn't add up to her being a war widow. Her sister's name. Her reaction earlier. And I grimaced at the last one, the scars that had marked her human body when he found her in the morgue. It was a grotesque image. Her skin, pale in her near dead state, marred with angry red marks. In his musings, he had happened across the truth – Carlisle was no fool, he knew the most likely person to scar her like that was her husband – but he did not want to believe it, telling himself he could only guess at the truth.

I was surprised by his next thought. He decided what had happened did not matter. I felt a second of rage, before he continued. The important thing now was helping her past whatever had happened and to prove to her that we meant no harm.

That was exactly the same thing I had decided. I was glad Carlisle had come to that decision on his own – now I would not have to try and explain this to him while guarding Esme's secret. For she no doubt had no desire for him to know of her past, and though that made no sense to me, if she was to be a part of our coven (which I had no doubt was what she would want judging by the way she thought of Carlisle) I would have to protect her privacy. It would only cause drama and conflict if she found out I was running off to tell my father all the things she didn't what anyone to know, like a schoolyard tattle-tale.

Wait, when did Carlisle become my father again?

I sighed then. If I couldn't understand my own thoughts what hope did I have at understanding Carlisle's or Esme's?

Though I had to admit, I was feeling a lot kinder towards Carlisle since Esme had woke up. I had poured scorn on his concern for her when I had been so certain she would never return it, but now that I could see that it mattered to her, cheered her up, it was a lot more touching.

Esme was finally pulling herself together. Tenderly, she placed the baby blanket she had been hugging, the one that had sparked her misery, into a drawer of the wardrobe in her room. Then she turned her attention to the rest of her possessions which she had piled on her bed as Carlisle passed them to her.

Marvelling at the speed, she hung all her dresses up and then placed the rest of her clothing in various drawers. She was a lot more organized than myself, everything had its proper place. Stockings had one half of a drawer and corset had another and so on.

She had so very few possessions it did not take her long. I was sure as soon as Carlisle found that out he would rectify the problem. He had gone overboard with his willing to buy me new possessions in the beginning. Not that I had been bothered – I had gained an almost vindictive pleasure from it, something which ashamed me now. Though that was true for most of my actions in my newborn year. After all, how many of the lovely new belongings Carlisle had given me had been destroyed in rage?

I tried desperately to tune out of her thoughts as she began to get changed. As a mind reader it was difficult not to see things like this – even a harmless walk through town could provide me with flashes of woman dressing and couples enjoying each others company explicitly. Some men would no doubt have enjoyed this ability, but it just made me feel slightly disgusted in myself. I was not a pervert, but it sure made me feel like one. I suppose if I had enjoyed it I would have had a lot more reason to be worried about myself. My mother had always been very stern about morality and the message still remained with me.

_Always be a gentleman, Edward._

Kind of hard to do when you had no way to stop your ability to read minds. Of course, I tried to block them out as soon as possible, but I couldn't stop what I saw entirely.

Esme was putting on a new corset and I saw a lot more of her breasts than I had would ever have wished to see while trying my hardest to focus solely on Carlisle's thoughts. But blocking one person's thoughts when there was only two people around was a lot more difficult than doing so in the middle of town, where there was lots of voices to cancel out what I did not what to see or hear.

It would be a lot more difficult having a woman at such close quarters.

Carlisle sure hadn't thought of that when he brought a woman home.

I smirked at that thought – the idea of Carlisle 'bringing a woman home' with all the connotations attached to it. It was a ridiculous idea. Then I remembered the woman two doors down – and the soft, tender way her thoughts caressed his name. Maybe not such a ridiculous idea after all.

I sincerely hoped I never had to try and block _that_ from my mind, it was bad enough with strangers.

I tried my hardest to focus my thoughts elsewhere, anywhere else, trying to get the image of Carlisle and Esme together in that way out of my mind. Sometimes having an overactive vampire mind was not an advantage.

Esme was walking downstairs now. Carlisle smiled at her as she walked into the living room. She had changed into a blue dress and it suited her greatly, hugging her hips and breasts and showing off her figure.

Wait, what? I sighed again. That had been Carlisle's thought not mine.

This was going to be very annoying if it continued. And one look into Carlisle's thoughts told me it was going to continue. I had seen into the minds of enough men to recognize it as … lust?

Lust and Carlisle were two words that should not be in the same sentence. Yet there could be no denying what I had heard – when Carlisle had seen Esme enter the room he had desired her. Even if he had not recognized it himself. After all, why would he? He was as limited in this field as I was, except I had the advantage of seeing it over and over again in people's mind. I may never have experienced it myself, but I had seen enough to understand what it was. Unlike Carlisle, who had never ever desired a woman once in over two hundred years.

Until today that was.

_Well, this complicates things._

That was an understatement.

I was no longer playing my music. My elbows were on the top on my piano, propping me up as I placed my head into my hands.

The image of Carlisle and Esme together popped into my head once more, unbidden.

_Just great_. I couldn't help the sarcastic edge to my thoughts. This was most definitely the last thing I wanted to deal with.

Trying to distract myself once more, I resumed my music.

I could still hear Esme and Carlisle talking awkwardly together downstairs, each carefully thinking over each word. Carlisle was trying not to upset her, Esme just didn't know how to respond. She was thoroughly embarrassed by her reaction earlier.

I listened into Esme's thoughts as she watched Carlisle. They were same as when she had woke up – fervent delight at him being here once more, with a subtle undertone of yearning. She had wanted to see him again for a long time.

It was not the same as Carlisle's desire earlier – it was a desperate… love?

No, not love. Obsession.

_This is certainly going to be interesting._

For how could this end well? Carlisle certainly appeared to desire Esme as well. Was it that which had caused his impulsive decision in the morgue?

No. That had been driven by his memories of a sixteen year old girl who he had cared for, perhaps even desired, but in a very different way. He had craved the company of a sweet little girl. Now the girl was a woman and that changed everything.

"Neither myself, or Edward, mean you any harm," Carlisle told her. And despite everything she had been thinking earlier, it was easy for her to believe him. Because this was _Dr. Cullen_, after all. Her infatuation was obvious now I had spotted it.

"I know, " she whispered quietly.

"Would you like to sit down?" Carlisle was careful to word it as a request not an order, but years of conditioning can not be undone in a day.

She watched him expectedly – waiting to hear what to do next. But all that followed was an awkward silence. Then she cursed herself for doing so.

_He's not like Charles, _she told herself.

_Charles_, I hissed the name in my own mind. Now I knew the monster's name.

"So what do … vampires … do when we're not …drinking blood?" she asked hesitantly. She had to force the word 'vampire' out, it sounded strange to her on her tongue. Carlisle had noticed this as well. He, too, had had problems saying, or thinking, the word at first.

"Well, as you can probably hear, Edward enjoys playing the piano, and I enjoy reading. Did you used to have any hobbies?" She shook her head.

"I used to read as a child, but I stopped after …" she trailed off, thinking about Charles had not thought reading a suitable pasttime for his wife.

"I have many books upstairs, if you'd like to borrow one. Though I most confess they are mainly medical texts, but still, perhaps we can find something you'd enjoy."

She smiled slightly. Once more Carlisle had proved to her he was different to Charles. This only fuelled her obsession. After years of neglect, she craved kindness and compassion. Well, she had certainly picked the right target to get that from.

"That'd be nice, thank you."

She gasped as she followed Carlisle into her office, noticing the sheer number of volumes.

"It's amazing what you can amass over time," he told her. Esme noticed the gentle smile he gave her, though Carlisle was unaware he was doing so. "There's a small fiction section on the second shelf on the right, as I doubt you have any desire to learn about anatomy." She smiled back at him. She definitely has a beautiful smile, it lit up her face, making her already soft features glow appealingly.

_Yes, that is going to get annoying,_ I thought as desire flickered once more in Carlisle. But I noticed that it had a tender edge to it this time – what he wanted was to make her happy, to make her smile like that more often. What he had felt earlier had been different.

Love and lust.

That changed everything once more.

Esme had picked up a copy of Sense and Sensibility.

"Do you mind?" she asked, wanting to double check she wasn't doing something wrong.

"No, of course not, feel free."

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen." Carlisle almost flinched when she used his title. It was too formal, too distant. It made the gap between them all too obvious to me. She saw him as this person above her – the wonderful, perfect man who the real Carlisle could never live up to, no matter how kind he was, for she saw as him flawless, and he would be the first to admit he was anything but. All he wanted was someone sweet and gentle to care for him and while I was sure Esme could fill that role if she knew it existed, she did not see him as someone who needed caring for.

I would have to talk to him, but what to say? I could not come out and say she was infatuated and he… was in love with her? Lusted after her? I didn't know and he certainly didn't.

He was looking to see what book she had taken when I arrived in the doorway.

"I was wondering why you had a copy of Sense and Sensibility," I teased him.

Apparently, I was smiling my 'trademark' smile. He was relieved to see me happier after my reaction earlier.

That reminded me of what I had seen earlier. Esme's past. She was pining all her hope on Carlisle because that was what she needed - hope. The thing she had lived without for years. He could never live up to what she thought he was, yet how could I ever act to take that hope away from her? Not after what she had suffered at the hands of her vile husband.

"Not all humans are worth saving, Carlisle." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them and they shocked him. Hadn't I always shared his determination to not hunt humans? He was confused – he couldn't understand my sudden change in demeanour. And why would he? He could put all the pieces together and guess the truth as he had, but he couldn't see it. He couldn't hear it. And as soon as she smiled, all he could see was pretty little Esme.

"I don't expect you to understand," I told him, unable to suppress a sigh. My words had a double meaning he did not know. Yes, he could never understand what it was like to hear the pain and horror in her mind. But he would also never understand the mess he had gotten us into. He was blinkered by his desire for Esme. I turned away from him, exasperated by the day's events.

_Edward, wait. If something is upsetting you, you know you can always talk to me about it. _Carlisle's thoughts were well-meaning, but only served to annoy me more. Talk to him? What was I suppose to say?

_Well, Carlisle, I'm upset because you've brought home a mentally unstable domestic abuse victim whose infatuated with you, and though you don't realize it you lust after her and may even be in love with her – despite knowing absolutely nothing about her._

"I'm fine, Carlisle," I said testily. "You and I just have different views of the world, that's all." That was certainly true. My mind-reading certainly gave me a different view. That and the fact that I didn't lust after Esme. That certainly had tainted his view.

I left the room then, leaving Carlisle watching after me, quietly perplexed.

I flopped down on my bed, trying to organize my thoughts.

There was five things of which I was certain:

Firstly, Esme was besotted with Carlisle, but what she was smitten with wasn't him, but the image of him she had created in her mind. I had no idea when or even if (for in her obsession she may be unwilling to see Carlisle as anything but perfect) that illusion would shatter, but until that moment she would follow him like a lovesick puppy.

Secondly, Carlisle desired her. Lusted after her. Maybe even loved her. That thought still seemed alien to me.

Thirdly, for good or bad, they were going to end up together, one way or another. The more I thought about it, the more that became blindly obvious.

Fourthly, this was not going to end well for me either way. I did not want to be stuck in a house with a mated couple, thank you very much. Nor did I fancy being around either of them if things went sour.

And fifthly, there was nothing I could do to stop things. The wheels were already in motion, had been ever since Carlisle first saw Esme in on a morgue drawer. Perhaps even since he saw a caring young girl with a broken leg.

_Well, this is just bloody great._

* * *

><p><strong>I wasn't planning on Edward realizing things so quickly - but as I wrote I realized there was signs he couldn't ignore. He may not know love (or lust after) anyone himself but his seen it enough in others to recognize it. <strong>

**And yes, at this point, I do think Esme is in love with the idealized Dr. Cullen and not Carlisle, she has to get to know the real Carlisle to truly fall in love with him.**

**Reviews would be greatly appreciated :)**


	3. A Kiss On The Cheek

**Both Their Lives and Loves and The Outtakes have been nominated for a Hopeless Romantic Awards (awards dedicated to celebrating non-Edward-and-Bella pairings.) Voting doesn't open till the 18****th**** July, but there's some really good stories that have been nominated that you might want to check out or if you know of another good non-Edward-and-Bella story that you feel deserves to be nominated then the website is: **

**www(.)hopelessromanticawards(.)blogspot(.)com**

**(Remove the brackets.)**

**And now on with the story…**

* * *

><p>Over the next four days, we fell into a pattern. Esme was likely to remain boxed in her room for most of the day with the latest book Carlisle had lent her. However, she was a lot faster reader than Carlisle realized – she separated her time between reading and mourning.<p>

Her dead son played on her mind more than she was willing to admit – she tried to tell herself that she was being silly, that women lose children all the time and move on, but it didn't stop her grief. After all, most women take comfort in the fact that they can always have more children, Esme did not have this comfort to fall back on, either as a human or a vampire. For though she was yet to consider whether her new body could reproduce, she was well aware that a baby needed father. And though she would have loved for Carlisle to fill that role, she ruled that out as a silly pipedream. Which it was, but not for the reason she thought. Simple biology meant she could never reproduce again sexually, no matter who the father was.

Today there was to be a change in the routine. Carlisle was going to return to his work at the hospital, making it my sole responsibility to watch Esme. Not that she really required much watching. In all the two years we have lived here not a single human had come close enough to be sensed from within the house. And it wasn't like she was throwing what Carlisle had dubbed 'newborn tantrums' like I had done.

She had been bitterly disappointed when Carlisle told her about this new arrangement, not that she let onto that fact.

"Goodbye, Edward. Goodbye, Esme," Carlisle's farewell's rang through the house. Esme debated whether she should go downstairs to see him off or if it would be too awkward.

"Goodbye, Carlisle," I called tiredly. I knew Carlisle enjoyed this charade, simply because he now had people to greet and say farewell to when he left and returned from work, but it quickly got tiresome.

"Goodbye," Esme's voice was very quiet, she had meant to shout but found herself unable to. She kept forgetting that she no longer had to shout anyway.

"Goodbye, Esme," Carlisle whispered under his breath sadly. I waited for her reaction to that, but she was now thinking about what she was going to do with herself all day. She was not looking forward to being stuck in solely my company.

It took me a few seconds to remember that unlike Esme, Carlisle did know what sounds could and couldn't be heard with vampire hearing. I had heard his words through his thoughts, not my own or Esme's.

I heard the gentle click of the front door closing and heard Carlisle's footsteps retreating from the house. The sound was intensified because Esme was concentrating deeply on it as well. Once he was out of hearing range, she tried to concentrate once more on the novel in her hands.

I turned my attention to the assignment in front of me. My task was to watch Esme for Carlisle, but in all honesty she did not require much watching. After all, she would not be leaving her room today unless she managed to finish her book without being interrupted by grief. Something she had yet to manage.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

"Finished?" I asked, meeting her just as she left her room, book in hand. Much to my surprise, she had managed to read the entire novel without being side-tracked by her own grief-stricken thoughts. I didn't know if that meant she was beginning to recover or if the novel had just had a particularly gripping plotline.

"Yes," she said shyly with a slight nod. "I was going to go put this back in Carlisle's office. I forget he was not here. I'll make sure to give it back to him when he arrives home."

"You can take it back now, he won't mind. May as well get another one while you're at it."

She shook her head frantically. "Oh no, no, I can't do that. I'll wait till he gets home." She was scared of annoying him, yet she also didn't want to miss the chance for their only real interaction.

I wanted to tell her to stop worrying and stop hiding away in her room, but as always I suppressed the words. She had to recover and rehabilitate in her own time, pushing her may have taken her a step forward but also ran the risk of shoving her three steps backward.

"Do you fancy going for a hunt?" I asked. Due to her newborn thirst she needed to hunt every two or three days. Since we had no guarantee of what the weather would be like during the day when he returned home, Carlisle had had to delegate the task of taking her hunting to me while he worked the night shift.

She was apprehensive. She still did not enjoy the notion of the act of hunting, but she could not deny the pleasure of cooling the burn of her throat. After a few seconds of internal debate, she nodded.

"If it's no trouble," she said meekly.

"Of course not," I grinned. If the only thing I could do to help was try and cheer Esme up, then I was going to try my very best. For all our sake's.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

"I'll need to wash this dress," she said looking at the blood splatters that now stained it. "I have some other things that needs washing, as well. Do you need anything doing while I'm at it?"

I shook my head. "I'm a somewhat cleaner hunter than you," I joked. She managed to refrain her outwardly reaction, but internally she huffed.

"Plus, there's always the old coven standard of if it's dirty buy a new one."

She looked at me in confusion.

"Maybe you can afford that, but I can't," she said softly. She was thinking about how she had run away with barely a penny to her name. She had a few savings from her work as a teacher, but little else. "I…erm… my husband left me very little when he died. That's why I came here. To teach and earn some money for the baby and me. He died in the war."

There was so many retorts I could have made to that statement, so many different ways to catch her out in the act of lying, but I didn't have the heart to do so.

"You could just do what I always do and ask Carlisle," I told her with a grin. Though I had my own money inherited from my parents, Carlisle seemed to enjoy being able to spend the money he had built up over the centuries on someone else.

"Oh no!" she cried, shaking her head. "I couldn't do that. He shouldn't have to spend his hard-earned money on me. I can manage with what I have."

"Esme, money means very little to Carlisle. It's just something his accumulated over the years." I refrained from mentioning how many years, though I knew her reaction would be worth watching. I'd leave that explanation to Carlisle if he ever got round to it.

"I can't just take his money," she insisted. "I need to go do that washing anyway. Are you sure you don't need anything doing?"

"No, Esme," I told her softly before she went on her way.

I read through my assignment a final time as she went to get changed into a clean dress. I had already re-read it but I needed something to block Esme's thoughts out, though I was slowly getting better at blocking her thoughts despite her being so close. After all, in the last few days I'd had plenty of practise. I also knew more about the scars that had once littered her body than I ever needed to, because she often thought of them when she saw her now unmarked skin. Still I said nothing to her or Carlisle about it, for what would it achieve? I wished dearly I could do something to help her, even if that something was to kill her despicable husband, but I knew exactly what Carlisle would say about that if he knew. I was trying my best to avoid showing my internal anger at Esme's past to my father, but he still seemed to have sensed something was wrong from my sulky demeanour. (Or even sulkier demeanour, as he'd nicely put it.) He seemed to think I was still annoyed at him for changing Esme in the first place, and I had no way of telling him he was wrong without it leading to further questions.

Esme was back in her room by the time Carlisle returned home. I heard them both internally debating whether to greet one and other, before deciding against it. Esme instead picked up the book she had finished earlier today, planning to return it soon once Carlisle had settled down. She didn't want to appear right away and seem too eager.

Carlisle, equally, did not want to go up to her room and tell her he was home. He did not want to feel like he was imposing.

Instead, he thought his usual morning greeting at me.

_Morning, Edward._

"Morning, Carlisle," I muttered back. Esme, hearing me, decided to add her own. She did not know that I was responding to Carlisle's thoughts – I had not mentioned my talent to her yet for I knew she would be greatly disturbed upon learning I could hear her thoughts. I knew it was a conversation I would need to have with her eventually, but I was willing to put it off for as long as possible. No doubt some would have called this cowardly, but I was undeniably doing us both a favour.

"Morning, Dr. Cullen," she called down from her room.

"Morning, Esme," Carlisle replied, unable to suppress the smile that had spread across his face. He quickly rearranged his face before heading up to my room.

_How was she?_

I shrugged to indict that nothing bad had happened before looking pointedly at the wall in the direction of Esme's room.

"How's your assignment going?" he asked out loud. I shrugged again. I was not particularly confident with what I had written, but nor did I think I would fail. However, I did not like my lecturer in this subject – he was a prideful man who had taken an instant dislike to me – and I wanted to give him nothing he couldn't fault me with. It was a near impossible task.

"I'll leave you to it then," he said with a smile, before heading to his own office.

I had just left the house when Esme steeled her nerves and went to give Carlisle his book back.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

It seemed for a small town, Ashland certainly had a lot of drama. While I usually did my best to ignore the innate thoughts of the townspeople, more recently things kept catching my attention. Here was a woman who idolized her boss just like Esme did Carlisle. A man who thought about his best friend's sister the way Carlisle did Esme, and just like Carlisle he was unwilling to admit what it was to himself. I listened in to their thoughts to see if their solutions to their own problems could help me come up with an answer to what to do about Carlisle and Esme. So far, we all had nothing.

Love sure was a depressing thing.

"Something on your mind more important than my class, Mr. Masen?" Mr. White asked dryly. I shook my head, I really needed to stop getting lost in my own thoughts and listen to other people's when in public. It was getting worse ever since Carlisle had brought Esme home because I was having to block their thoughts out more and more.

"So I assume you can tell me the last thing I said?" I heard the answer in several peoples thoughts and proceeded to repeat it. I heard my lecturer's annoyance as he turned back to the board. He was wishing he had a way to knock me down a peg or two and wipe the smug look of my face. Even though I knew I shouldn't, my smirk only increased when he shot a frustrated glance at me as he began to address the class once more.

_Looks like I'm failing my assignment._

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

I could feel Carlisle's eyes on me as I pounded the keys of my piano in frustration. Up until now I had been doing quite a successful job of ignoring his thoughts, but clearly he had not sensed my very obvious desire to be left alone.

_What's wrong, Edward?_

"Nothing," I replied sharply, turning to face him. He raised an eyebrow and even if I hadn't been able to read his thoughts, his scepticism was written plainly all over his face.

"I said I'm fine," I told him through gritted teeth.

_Edward, _he began deploringly.

"What part of fine don't you understand, Carlisle?" I snapped.

He sighed, still scrutinising me carefully. I could of growled with frustration as his next thought. I hated the 'leave Edward to calm down and then talk to him' tactic. Or perhaps I just hated the calm way in which Carlisle decided upon it as a line of attack, as though I was some silly little schoolboy having a tantrum.

_If you want to talk about it you know where to find me, son._

"OK," I spat at him. With one last puzzled glance at me, he exited the room.

I could still feel the anger pent up inside me and I swiftly stood up from my piano stool and started to pace my room. I had arrived home already frustrated by my day at college to be greeted by Esme's thoughts screaming at me. Due to her lack of control over her new strength, she had managed to rip the current book that she was reading and she was terrified of giving it back to Carlisle. What would she do if he was angry with her? What would _he _do if he was angry with her? I could hear her still now, repeatedly telling herself that this was Dr. Cullen not Charles and he wouldn't hurt her. Unfortunately all this kept doing was sending her thoughts down the slippery slide into her human memories. She heard the insults the human husband had screamed at her and wondered if one day Dr. Cullen would think the same about her. She was worthless, after all. She couldn't even read a book without destroying it – who could possibly want her around?

Simply having to listen to it would have been horrendous. But to have to listen to it and not say anything was sheer torture. I could have told her that no one saw her that way anymore, least of all Carlisle (who I also knew would have made sure to do everything in his power to help her if I told him). But that would have involved divulging their most intimate thoughts to the other and I knew I could never do that.

_Stupid morals, _I grumbled.I could hear my mother's disappointed voice in my head as soon as I thought that.

Then there was the content of Esme's human memories, which made me want to kill the cruel man whose hands she had suffered at. How could anyone be so inhumane? And why should he be allowed to live and spoil anyone else's happiness?

Killing, however, was somewhat against my father's rules. I couldn't help but wonder how he would feel about it if he knew the truth about Charles Evenson. He had guessed fairly accurately and decided it was best to leave it in the past and help her move on, but if he knew it to be concrete truth, and if he could see it through her eyes as I could, surely even my pacifist father would be spurred into action. Particularly since these horrendous crimes had been committed against the woman he loved.

_The woman he loved._ That was still a strange thought. For there could be no denying anymore that that was what he felt, oblivious as Carlisle was to it.

I remembered his words earlier, _if you want to talk about it you know where to find me. _I would have liked nothing better than to be able to talk to my father, to pass along some of the burden that was trying to figure out how to deal with Esme's memories, but it was an impossibility. Not just because of my rule against sharing intimate thoughts, but because there was no way I could have that conversation without blurting out the other dilemma frustrating me. And I was not entirely certain how well Carlisle would react if I was to walk into his office and bluntly tell him that he was in love with Esme and to make a move already. Not that that would have been the best thing for it anyway, not while Esme still reminded unable to see 'Carlisle' rather than 'Dr. Cullen'. Before anything could truly happen between the two of them she had to get to know the real Carlisle, which she would never do if she kept hiding out in her room, but there was no subtle way for me to suggest to either of them that they needed to interact more. _What exactly am I suppose to say? 'You two need to get together so please start having actual conversations with each other'?_

I scoffed out loud at the thought of that – I could just imagine their mortified faces if I was to do say that to them.

And on top of all that, I still wasn't certain that I even wanted them to get together. Sure, their thoughts were annoying now, but who was to say they wouldn't get even worse to listen to. It was bad enough listening in now, as Esme gushed over how kind Carlisle was and he mused over how beautiful and sweet she was, they would probably getting even more sickeningly soppy over each other if they were to actual court. And then were would it lead? Would they get married? And where did I fit into this picture? No newlywed couple were going to want some random teenager hanging around. Sure, Carlisle liked to think of me as 'son' but newlywed couples are not supposed to start with children. If it came down to Esme or me, I think I knew who he would pick. Maybe I should just leave now and make life easier for us all. I tried to imagine that, telling Carlisle I was leaving, and I knew I couldn't do it. He would no doubt beg me to stay and I wouldn't be able to say no. After all, he did not have to choose between Esme or me yet, if that came, if would come much later. I could, of course, sabotage their relationship before it had even started, but I knew I wasn't heartless enough to do so. I had no desire to hurt either of them. Carlisle, I had to admit, desired better than that from me, and Esme was still innocent in all this. She had not chosen to be here and cause these problems.

I stopped my pacing and threw myself forcefully down onto my bed. All my conundrums had no answers and running to daddy for help certainly wasn't an option.

I heard Esme as she decided she had to take the book back and get it over with. She was pleasantly unsurprised when Carlisle did nothing more than tell her not to worry about it as accidents like this were normal in the newborn year.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

In the week since Carlisle had returned to the hospital, our lives had slipped back into our routine, just a slightly altered one. Esme would still never leave her room when Carlisle was around (except to give him back her current book and choose a new one, an interaction they both looked forward to immensely).

Neither of them had still made any sort of realization regarding the other. I wondered exactly how long I would have to suffer through this before I locked them both in a room together and made them talk. Though they would probably just sat there in stilted silence and stare at each other. Or break the door down. Anything but actually have a conversation!

"Goodbye, Edward, Esme," Carlisle called as he headed towards the door.

"Bye," I mumbled half-heartedly.

"Goodbye, Dr. Cullen," Esme called back. I felt his slight irritation that despite his insistence she still persisted to call him by his title. I could tell she wasn't going to stop doing so anytime soon. She even thought of him as 'Dr. Cullen' rather than just 'Carlisle'. She still saw him as her perfect saviour – someone above and beyond her.

I smiled to myself as I heard her decide she would come and ask me if I wouldn't mind taking her hunting. It was the first time she had been brave enough to actually ask rather than wait for me to come and ask her.

"Edward?" she called through the door timidly.

"Yes, Esme?"

"Would you, um, would you mind taking me hunting? My throat is hurting a little bit." A little bit was an understatement but I let it slide.

"Of course, Esme," I agreed amiably as I opened the door. She smiled gratefully at me.

"Thank you."

Several hours later we returned home. Though she was determinedly trying not to show it as she didn't want to bother me with her 'silly sentiments' as she had called it, she was deeply upset because she had spilled a particularly large amount of blood down her dress, even though she had believed she was getting more neat at draining carcasses. It was not, however, the fact that she obviously was still lacking somewhat in this skill that bothered her, but the dress she had stained. She was annoyed at herself for not changing out of it before she went hunting in case something like this had happened. I gathered it was a dress her sister had helped her chose during the war years, the happiest years of Esme's marriage as her husband wasn't there. Esme thought of her dead sister almost as much as she thought of William, though her death was less recent. There was no denying she had cared for the girl, more like a mother than a sister. I remembered what I had seen her tell Carlisle at sixteen, that her sister was 'different' but it didn't matter. And how that had drawn him to her, that she could love someone the rest of the world saw as odd – someone like him.

When we arrived home she did not insistently ask me if I had anything I wished washed as usual, but headed straight to her room, still lost in her thoughts of her dead sister and the dress she had just ruined.

There was little I could do to help her so I tuned her thoughts out as I prepared myself for the day ahead. An unexpected burst of anger caught my attention though. Esme was downstairs now, stood beside the sink. Her focus, however, was on the ring she was holding in her right hand. She was turning it around using her thumb and forefinger, spinning it so fast that to normal eyes it would have been nothing more than a golden blur. Her thoughts were filled with venom towards the small object and I could only imagine the glare she must have been giving it. She was wondering why she even bothered to take it off and put it back on again every time she did the washing – old habit she presumed. She then very purposefully stopped her spinning and squished the metal between her thumb and forefinger, then used her left hand to fold it as easily as if it was paper, until it was nothing more decipherable than a small golden blob. I could feel her happiness at committing this act – it give her a thrilling sense of freedom to destroy the last tangible evidence that she had ever been married to Charles Evenson.

She discarded the metal blob uninterestingly and it was left to lay uncared about on the work surface beside her. As she began her chore, I returned to gathering my things and looking over yesterday's homework. This monotony was broken shortly afterwards by the sound of Carlisle's footsteps in the distance. Esme, of course, noticed this, too, but determinedly carried on with her task as if she hadn't.

I looked at my watch, worried I had lost track of time as Carlisle wasn't due back till after I had left for school. _No, I'm perfectly on time, he's just early._

Apparently, it had been a slow night at the hospital and Carlisle had decided it was a better use of his time to be at home with Esme instead of leaving her alone.

I stood up and headed downstairs, knowing I would see Carlisle as I left.

_Morning, Edward, __h_e called from the hallway as I headed towards it.

"Morning, Carlisle," I replied dutifully, resisting the temptation to roll my eyes.

_Where's Esme?_

"She's doing some washing in the kitchen," I told him as I passed by before departing.

"Morning, Esme," I heard Carlisle call from within the house as I ran in the opposite direction. Carlisle, as always, was enjoying this little morning routine. It was the only reason I went along with it, knowing how much it meant to a man who'd returned home to an empty house for the better part of the last two hundred and fifty years.

"Morning, Dr. Cull- oh, darn it!" I just heard Esme's reply before I ran beyond my mind-reading range. I couldn't help but chuckle at the idea of her cursing, though I wondered why. I had been listening through Carlisle's mind not hers so hadn't heard what had caused her annoyance.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

As soon as I heard their thoughts I knew something had happened at the house while I was gone. Esme was ecstatic while Carlisle was pensive. I was surprised to learn they were both sat in the living room together – supposedly reading though neither was. What had happened to make Esme break her habit of hiding away in her room whenever Carlisle was around?

I ignored Esme's jubilant thoughts and tuned into Carlisle's much more quiet and meditative ones. One question kept running through his mind.

_What is wrong with me?_

He had finally realised his attraction to Esme, even if he still was unwilling to label it as such. My curiosity was stoked, what had happened to finally open his eyes (at least to a certain extent)?

Esme's thrilled thoughts quickly, and loudly, answered my question. She was replaying an event from earlier that day, after she had completed her washing with Carlisle's help.

_"It was nothing, my dear," __Carlisle told her softly, then before Esme realised what he was about to do, he leaned over and gently __kissed her on her cheek__._

Even as she recalled the event, Esme wanted to lift her hand to her cheek and touch the spot that he had kissed, as she had done afterwards when she had escaped outside to hang her clothes up. She could still feel her skin tingling where his lips had touched it.

_Well, this was unexpected,_ I thought, more amused than anything, as I reached our doorway. Both Carlisle and Esme looked up in surprise as I opened the door. Both had been so lost in their own thoughts that they had not noticed my approaching footsteps. Carlisle quickly began to recite a passage from his latest medical journal, as if that would stop me from finding out when I had Esme's thoughts shouting at me.

"So," I said with a smirk as I walked into the living room. "How was everyone's day?"

"Fine, thank you," Esme replied. She tried to keep her voice neutral but didn't quite manage it. The huge smile on her face made her attempts pointless anyway.

"What about you, Carlisle?" I asked with false sweetness.

Carlisle noticed the grin plastered on my face and realized I must have heard some of the story from Esme's thoughts. Still didn't stop him from continuing his recital of the properties of the kidneys a second later, realizing his slip.

"Fine, thank you, Edward," he replied as politely as he could, if only for Esme's benefit. I could tell my attitude was only serving to annoy my father, but after all the bother Esme and him had caused me, I was allowed a little fun surely?

"Anything of interest happen while I was gone?" I asked innocently. Carlisle narrowed his eyes at me, well aware there was no correct way of answering that question with Esme in the room. If he said no she would be insulted, if he replied honestly she would be annoyed.

"Nothing that would interest you I don't think," Esme answered sweetly, unintentionally saving my father from answering, much to my disappointment. The secretive smile playing at her lips irritated me. She was enjoying having a secret with Carlisle. If the foolish woman only knew the truth.

"I don't know, I'm sure I'd find it interesting," I countered, the forced sweetness in my voice matching hers.

"Oh, it's nothing for you to worry about," she replied airily, standing up. I felt another prickle of irritation at being addressed like a ignorant schoolboy. She still had her foolish grin plastered on her face. Her stupid little so-called secret was giving her more confidence than I had ever seen her with.

"Yes, no need to worry Edward with your problems," I said sarcastically.

_Edward, that's enough! _Carlisle thought sternly. He moved to stand next to Esme, almost protectively.

_Of course he would side with her!_

"I'm going upstairs," I announced crossly. "Have fun together!" I slammed the door behind me as I exited the room.

"Did I say something wrong?" Esme asked Carlisle quietly. Annoyingly, I could tell the question was genuine.

"Don't worry about, Edward," Carlisle replied quietly. "He can be temperamental at times. I'll go speak with him." I huffed at his comment.

_You can't deny it's true_, Carlisle thought as he came up the stairs. He sounded more amused by my behaviour than anything.

"If I tell you to go away, will you?" I asked tetchily just as he was about to knock on my door. Carlisle chuckled slightly and opened the door anyway.

_I assume you saw what happened this morning in Esme's mind? _I nodded. He sighed, I could hear him considering carefully how to word his next sentence. _I don't truly understand what came over me this morning, but it doesn't change anything._

I laughed darkly at his words. "Don't be so ignorant, Carlisle," I scoffed at him.

_Edward! _Carlisle scolded me indignantly. He thought I was being unreasonable.

_Well, I am the temperamental one! _I thought bitterly.

"What?" I questioned. "It's not my fault you're being a fool!"

"Edward!" Carlisle hissed between his teeth. The fact that he spoke aloud showed his anger, not that I paid any attention to that fact. Over a weeks worth of stress was bubbling up inside of me and spilling out in the form of my sharp words.

"Of course it changes something. It changes everything, because you-" I stopped myself before I finished the sentence. Shouting 'because you love her' really would change everything. Esme, to her credit, was trying not to listen, but she would still no doubt hear that. And I could just imagine how the scene would unfold. She would come running up here ecstatic because the wonderful, perfect Dr. Cullen loved her, probably fling herself into Carlisle's arms and that would be that.

I didn't know what I wanted out of the situation anymore. But I knew I most certainly did not want to have deal with that right now.

"Because I what, Edward?" Carlisle asked curiously. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe with my talent I had managed to figure out what was wrong with him.

"Figure it out yourself," I told him bitterly. "Don't you have a shift to go to?" Carlisle pulled his pocket watch out and quickly looked at the time, before glancing at me once more. He was still trying to understand my reaction and was worried about me. Damn him, he always had to be worried about me, didn't he? He could never let me brood guilt-free. But any softening in my temperament quickly hardened once more at Carlisle's next thought. Jealous. He thought I was jealous of Esme.

_It suppose to be quite a common reaction among older coven members if the creator brings a new one into the fold, _he mused.

"Don't overestimate yourself," I spat at him angrily.

Carlisle calmly ignored my comment and glanced at his pocket watch again. I wondered if he knew exactly how infuriating it was when he did that. I wanted to argue and shout at him but he never played along.

"I suppose I best be getting ready for my shift like you said," he finally commented, turning towards the door. He stopped half-way through the doorway.

_Be nice to Esme while I'm gone. _There was no denying the warning in his voice.

"Wouldn't dream of being anything but," I said mockingly. He finally stepped across the threshold of the door, but he turned to look at me again, concern in his eyes. It gave me great satisfaction to lean over and slam the door in his face.

With a harassed sigh, I flopped down on the bed. I heard it creak warningly, telling me I had done so with too much force.

Carlisle was resignedly getting ready to go to the hospital, his thoughts still churning over our previous conversation. Already the doubts and guilt were creeping up on me. I shouldn't have been so harsh to him.

Carlisle left without his usual goodbyes, something Esme noted. She was back in the room once more – this time hiding out from me instead of Carlisle. The sickening guilty feeling in my stomach only increased.

"Sorry, Esme," I called through the wall, knowing it had to be done. I hated the idea of her being afraid of me – this was supposed to be the place where she had nothing (or more particularly no-one) to fear anymore.

"It's OK," she replied softly. Unwilling to tune them out with my own guilt, I had no choice but to sit and listen to her thoughts. She had truly forgiven me, though she was pondering the cause of my strange outburst. After all, there was no way I could know about what had occurred between Carlisle and her this morning. I sighed dramatically, I would have to tell her about my talent soon. I knew she would not appreciate it, but I could tell she wouldn't be too angry. Like Carlisle, she was not an angry person. I remembered my thoughts about her earlier and cringed. What had caused that slew of venom? Was it jealousy as Carlisle had suggested? But why would I be jealous of Esme? I certainly didn't want Carlisle to kiss _me_ on the cheek. I shook my head and cringed at the ludicrous nature of that thought. No, that wasn't what he had meant.

_But I am scared of being pushed aside. _I would never have admitted it out loud, but I had to face that it was true. This was the only life I knew as a vampire and I was loathed to leave it behind.

In the room next to me, Esme's thoughts had returned to Carlisle as normal. But her giddy happiness had run out and her version of reality had come crashing back down into her thoughts. She was thinking of the daydreams she had as a girl, of being married to the wonderful Dr. Cullen, and reminded herself sternly that they were just foolish daydreams. She should not read so much into a kiss on the cheek. It was probably just meaningless anyway – a familial kiss. After all, someone like him would never look twice at someone as ruined as her.

I didn't know whether to be relieved or depressed by this change of attitude. Depressed by the obvious effect of her ex-husband's conditioning, but relieved because she would not be running into Carlisle's arms anytime soon. I would not be pushed aside for awhile now – it would at least give me enough time to figure out what I was going to do once I became unwanted. So far I had nothing, even at my angriest as a newborn, I had never considered leaving Carlisle. Who did this woman think she was to come along and change everything? I instantly felt guilty again at my horrible thoughts, reminding myself once more that this was not Esme's fault.

_So is it Carlisle's then? _That was an easier pill to swallow. My company hadn't been enough for him – he could never love me as much as he does Esme. I smiled vindictively as I imagined making him choose, but my face soon fell. No, he would never choose. He would never push me aside willingly, nor would Esme, but I would have to leave anyway. There would be no room for a 'son' in Carlisle's new family, especially a 'temperamental' one.

Esme's exasperation caught my attention as she flung the book she was holding down. Much to her relief it didn't tear this time. She was aggravated because of her thirst, but after my outburst earlier she didn't have the courage to come and ask me to take her hunting.

I stood up with a sigh and headed towards her room, trying to quench any ill-feelings I had towards the kind-heartened woman. Even if I was 'jealous' as Carlisle had accused, I could not deny she was a nice person who deserved better than my sullenness.

"Would you like to go hunting, Esme?" I called kindly through her door.

"If you don't mind," she replied timidly.

I forced myself to smile at her as she came out of her room. How ironic that it would be a woman so sweet and kind that would eventually, albeit it unintentionally, push me out of the life I had to admit I enjoyed. I had to admit that I did not want to leave my father and yet when the time came there would be no other choice. There was nothing left to do about it but wonder when I would have to leave.

* * *

><p><strong>Yes, Edward's mind is a bit all over the place. He is still in many ways truly a teenager at that this point (as he has only just turned twenty in real years while being eternally seventeen) and though he's trying to do the mature thing it doesn't always work out that way.<strong>

**Reviews are greatly appreciated :)**

**Also I may be updating the 'Esme' chapter of Their Lives and Love to show Carlisle's POV of some of the added events described in this chapter. It'll be posted to The Outtakes as well as the main story :)**


	4. Checkmate

**Just as I don't own Twilight, I also don't own Bram Stoker's Dracula.**

"Checkmate." My voice was perhaps just a little too smug. Esme was growing steadily more annoyed as she continued to lose.

Snap. The brittle puzzle piece snapped in half under the pressure from her fingers.

_OK, maybe I've taken this a little too far._

Esme was worrying about Carlisle's reaction when he found out she had broken a part of the chessboard he had given her - on my advice. As well as the extra books and the extra clothes and every other little thing she needed but was too considerate to ask him for. I had to admit that sometimes being a mind-reader did come in useful.

_Well, I'm really sorry, Dr. Cullen. But the nice chessboard you bought me so I wouldn't be bored? I kind of lost my temper and broke the king. So no, I guess we won't be playing together today._

I snorted in amusement after she had finished her thought. Esme looked up at me and tried to figure out what had amused me. She decided I was simply laughing at her for breaking a chess piece. Her frustration at continuously losing was growing once more.

This was quickly proving itself to not be one of my better plans.

_Even if Esme does finally manage to figure out what my talent is, she is going to go completely berserk at me. _

I was well aware that telling her bluntly was probably the best option, but I had yet to find an easy way to fit it into a conversation. Especially considering that, given the content of her thoughts, she was even more likely to be aghast upon learning of my talent than the average vampire.

_How does he keep beating me though? It's like he can read my mind of something. _

She was finally catching on.

_Don't be ridiculous, Esme. Vampire or not, he can't read your mind. Thank goodness for that._

I was once more treated to Esme's hazy memories of the daydreams she had once had about Carlisle as a human. Some of which were more graphic than I would have liked. They had been playing on her mind ever since he had kissed her cheek two weeks ago. She was still the same as ever – obsessed with her perfect fantasies. Though I had seen brief flashes of hope. She was now actually daring to leave her room and interact with the pair of us, and was therefore seeing more and more of our normal interactions. The thing that had really struck with her was when she had watched Carlisle and I argue – over something silly – and she had noted how truly like a father he was, even while we argued. These small things only made her love him more. Not that she had even admitted to herself that she was in love with him. The silly teenager she had been may had imagined herself in love, but the grown woman she now was didn't want to do something so childish.

Meanwhile, Carlisle remained just as clueless as her.

_Maybe they can both read my mind, _Esme continued to speculate._ Maybe it's a vampire skill that I just haven't mastered yet._

She was so close to the truth and yet so far.

She cringed at the idea of me reading her mind and then cringed even more at the thought of Carlisle being able to do so. She didn't want him to know about her silly little daydreams. I resisted the urge to visibly grimace as she thought about the idea of him knowing about 'the stupid decisions she had undertaken as a human.'

_What does it matter either way? Nobody can read your mind, Esme, stop being silly!_

I tried my best to hid my amusement at her steadfast denial.

"Something funny, Edward?" Her words were very tart. I had definitely taken this too far.

"Sorry," I murmured. I knew I had to tell her now, though I could tell from what she had just been thinking that she was going to freak out. Though it might have bothered her even more if it was Carlisle who could read her mind, I knew she didn't want either of us knowing anything about her human husband.

"Is something wrong, Edward?" she asked, all tartness gone to be replaced with concern.

"Um… there's something I've been meaning to tell you. I probably should have told you a while ago, but I was worried about how you would react," I said with caution.

She looked at me curiously.

_In the last month I've been told that I'm a vampire, that I can choose to live of animal blood if I wish, but I will always crave human blood, and that I'm now the strongest creature on the planet. What could possibly be so bad he wouldn't wish to tell me? What next - that they really do read minds?_

The smile that was playing at her lips made it very clear just how ludicrous she thought that idea was.

_Just get this over with, _I told myself forcefully.

"Well yes – but only me. Carlisle can't."

She looked at me with her head tilted to the side in confusion and her brows furrowed.

"Only you can do what?"

"Read your mind."

_He actually can read my mind! No, he has to lying! Quick, think of something. Erm… a b c d e f g -_

I resisted the temptation to chuckle.

"You're reciting the alphabet."

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten -_

"And now you're counting."

_You can seriously read my mind? Did he hear that?_

"Yes and yes."

_Can you hear everything I think? _

"Only what's going through your mind at this precise moment of time."

_But he's been able to all this time! Oh no! Does he know about Charles?_

I saw my own face in her thoughts. She had seen the anger that had crossed it at the mention of that monster. I quickly composed my face to a more neutral look. There was no need to scare her more.

_That's a yes then. _Her dejection was clear in that one sentence.

I was horrified by what I heard next. She thought I was angry at her for being stupid.

I gasped out loud. "How can you possibly think I'm angry at _you_?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, who then?" She asked, truly confused. She was unable to comprehend that I was angry of her behalf.

"That … that wretched man." I tried my best to disguise it, but my rage was still clear in my words.

_What? He's angry on my behalf?_

She was still struggling to comprehend the idea that I could actually care about her.

"Of course." I was overwhelmed by the emotion that flooded into her, so touched was she that I would even care. Somehow, it made me feel unworthy. I was only reacting as any decent person should. I did not deserve such a large response. This was just another sign of how effected Esme's psyche really was.

_No doubt being Carlisle's mate will fix that, thankfully._

_Wait, when did I start hoping that they would actually end up together?_

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?" I asked, already certain I knew the answer and wishing I didn't.

"For caring."

"I'll never understand it. How anyone could ever hurt someone like you."

This only made her more emotional. I found myself very thankful that vampires can't cry. I wouldn't have known what to do with a crying woman. I was even more thankful when she decided against attempting to hug me.

_Now that would have been awkward._

Esme was still trying to process the reprecussions of my revelation.

_He's known … he's known all along. Ever since that first day. _Panic flooded her. _Oh no! Has he told Dr. Cullen?_

"No, Esme, I haven't. I try to protect the privacy of those around me. You'll have to tell him yourself." She scowled at me, all earlier gratitude gone. She found the idea of telling Carlisle herself absurd. Almost, she reflected, as absurd an idea as telling him she had once daydreamed of being his wife. A short laugh escaped my lips despite my best efforts at containing it.

_Oh no! Did he hear that? _she panicked.

"Yes," I answered, trying my best not to smirk.

"You can't tell him, please," she begged. I heard her mortification at the idea.

"Didn't I just say I'd protect your privacy?"

"Yes," she sighed, relieved. "Thank you."

"Not that I think he'd mind," I mumbled without thinking.

She looked at me with her eyes wide with curiosity, as though beseeching me to explain.

"I think I'm going to go practise my piano for a bit." I announced. I was fully aware it was a pathetic attempt at changing topic. I left her pondering my words. But by the time I had begun to play she had already brushed them aside, deciding they obviously didn't mean what she hoped they did. She forcefully turned her attention back to the broken king and wished she had a way to fix it.

_Damn strength_. I was amused by her cursing. It never sounded right in her gentle tone. For, somehow, even in her irritation, her voice – and thoughts – always managed to remain softly-spoken.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

Esme was playing chess against my father when I arrived back from school later that day. She was just about to 'win' another match. She felt victorious, as she had lost the last three after insisting that Carlisle stopped letting her win. This had given her the false impression that this victory would be a proper one. It wasn't.

"Winning, I see, Esme?" I called as I entered the room. Both of them smiled at me. Though I heard a flicker of worry in Carlisle's mind as he thought I might be about to tell her he was letting her win.

"It must be nice to win one on your own merit for a change," I added. I made sure to keep any trace of amusement out of my voice so Carlisle would know that I was going along with his ridiculous scheme. After all, I had nothing to gain from ruining it. All that would happen was that I would have to deal with two irate vampires. And it was rather fun to watch her rejoice over such obviously false victories.

Carlisle's intentions were a lot purer than mine. He simply wanted to make her smile.

"Checkmate," Esme declared. Carlisle was rewarded with his smile.

"Well played," he said, also smiling.

"Thank you. You, too."

"Fancy a game, Edward?" Carlisle asked.

"Maybe after our family hunt tonight?" I replied. I had heard the suggestion in Esme's thoughts just as she was about to say it.

"Now you're just showing off with the mind-reading thing," she mumbled. I was relieved to see her irritation was more for effect than anything else.

But I gleamed something interesting from Carlisle's thoughts. She was the one who had invited him to come hunting with us tonight. That certainly was a depart from tradition. I chuckled out loud as I saw the circumstances that it had come about from and the events that had followed.

"Snap?" I asked. "Seriously? Two grown vampires sat down and played a game of snap?"

Carlisle laughed. It wasn't thought about for my purpose, but I heard the answer to my question in Esme's mind. She had been playing solitaire when he had admitted it was a game he had used to play a lot as it was a game for one. He had then asked her if she knew any games for two players. The only game Esme had been able to think of was snap.

This was also the reason behind Esme's decision to include Carlisle in our hunt tonight. She had seen the loneliness that had once held such a strong hold on him and had wanted to remind him that it no longer did so.

More importantly, she had seen past the perfect doctor façade to the man that was wounded by centuries of rejection. She had seen a little bit of the real Carlisle and it had only made her affection stronger. And I was certain, as the days continued, she would see more and more, and her affection would never shrink. It truly gave me hope that she was exactly what my father needed.

"So, it appears we need a new dining table. Not that we eat of it anyway. But you two clearly need somewhere to play snap. Try not to break the next one, Esme."

She glared at me. Actually glared. And considering she was a woman who was both shorter and smaller than me with a soft motherly face, it was absolutely terrifying. I tried to convince myself it was just the vivid red eyes, but I wasn't truly able to fool myself.

I heard Carlisle's amusement as he watched us.

_Scared? _The voice was taunting. Sometimes I wondered which one of us was really the mind-reader.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "No," I answered tensely

"There's no shame in being scared, Edward. That was a very scary glare," Carlisle said. Every word was condescending and intended to be, if only to tease me.

Esme giggled.

"Wasn't scared," I muttered.

_Yes, you were, _Carlisle answered.

_He did look rather scared, maybe my glare is scary. I never meant to upset you, Edward. If you can hear me._

"I can hear you," I told her.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," she told me. Her voice was oozing with sincerity. Carlisle bit back another laugh.

"Wasn't scared," I muttered again.

Carlisle simply raised an eyebrow at me while his thoughts still poured scorn on my words.

"Weren't we going to hunt?" I asked.

_Nice subject change, _Carlisle thought.

_Who knew a happy Carlisle could be so annoying? _I mused. Both of them were on some sort of happy high after an enjoyable afternoon spent in each other's company, even if all they had been doing was playing board and card games.

"Has the sun cleared up?" Carlisle asked out loud. We had been having unseasonably cloudy weather until today. At his words, Esme had begun to recall another event from earlier that day. She had seen how her skin glistened in the sun for the first time. Unlike me, who had been horrified, she had been mesmerised. Though that had mostly been due to the fact that Carlisle had been stood beside her with his skin all glittery too.

"Yes," I told Carlisle.

"Shall we go then?" Esme asked with a smile. With a nod in her direction, Carlisle headed for the door. Esme and I followed him.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

"Checkmate," Carlisle told me with a smirk. I knocked my king (the unbroken one) over with so much force I was surprised I didn't copy Esme and break it.

"Can you please find some new blocking material?" I demanded with a sigh. "Using Dracula wasn't even funny the first time round."

_But the fact that it annoys you so much distracts you even more._

"You're a mean old man," I told him sternly.

Esme laughed. "No, you're not," she comforted him. "By the way, what is Dracula?"

"It's a novel about vampires," Carlisle told her.

"Well, a human's idea of vampires," I added. "All those vampire clichés? You can blame Bram Stoker for them."

"It's still a fascinating book," Carlisle countered. "After all, it is suppose to be a work of fiction. Plus, looking at a human's idea of vampires is intriguing." I rolled my eyes at him – I had heard this all before.

He turned his attention back to Esme. "I should have a copy upstairs if you'd like to read it."

"I'd like that very much. Thank you, Carlisle." It took me a few seconds to realize what was different about that sentence – it was the first time I'd ever heard her call him Carlisle. She had surprised even herself since she had said it without even having to remind herself that it was what he preferred. It was yet another baby step, but it was a step none the less.

"Another game?" I challenged. "Without the goddamn Dracula."

_Don't swear in front of Esme, Edward, _Carlisle chided me.

I resisted the temptation to sigh and instead muttered an apology to Esme, who simply waved it away.

We moved all the pieces back to their starting place. But as soon as Carlisle moved the first pawn, it started again.

'_When the Count saw my face, his eyes blazed with a sort of demonaic fury, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat. I drew away, and his hand touched the string of beads which held the crucifix. It made an instant change in him, for the fury passed so quickly that I could hardly believe that it was ever there.'_

"Just for that old man, I'm going to beat you," I warned him.

Unfortunately, I didn't. My reaction was a little more juvenile than I had intended. I had slammed the door perhaps a little too hard upon my exit.

Carlisle and Esme, however, were more amused than anything.

"No one likes a sore loser, son," Carlisle called up the stairs.

"At least I didn't snap the king," I mumbled.

"Yes, but I don't cheat, Edward," Carlisle reminded me. "So you're not allowed to lose your temper at me."

"Will he be okay?" Esme asked. She was worried that they had taken their teasing too far. Carlisle just chuckled slightly.

"He knows we're only teasing. Right, son?" I had to smile when he raised his voice on the last part, as though it was necessary for me to hear him.

"Yes," I agreed tiredly. "And there's no need to shout, Dad!" I shouted that part on purpose. It was only when I heard Carlisle's happiness and how Esme registered the smile that had spread across his face that I realized exactly what I had just said.

_I probably should try and call Carlisle by his first name less._

But though I knew how happy it made him, it still made me uncomfortable. I knew I would never forget the love I'd had for my human father, but sometimes I still didn't like the feeling that I was replacing him.

_Will Esme one day try and replace my mother?_

I shied away from that idea. I had been even closer to my mother than my father. The idea of replacing her was unthinkable.

~o~ ~O~ ~o~

As I approached the house the next day, Esme's thoughts were all over the place. She had heard my footsteps and was now scrambling desperately through her brain for something to block me with. Whatever it was she was trying to hide, she was terribly scared of me hearing it.

"Esme?" I called as I entered the house.

"Edward." She jumped up out of her seat as I walked in. An unravelled pile of knitting lay at her feet. Her voice was overly enthusiastic.

_Don't let him hear. Don't let him hear. Don't let him hear._

"Esme, what's wrong?" I asked cautiously. I took in my surroundings. The only difference I noticed was that there was a fire lit in the fireplace for once.

"Nothing," she said, overly airy. It was the least convincing act I'd ever seen.

I looked at her incredulously.

"Please," she begged. "Please, don't ask. Don't, don't listen. Please."

She was seriously worrying me now. "Esme, what happened?" I demanded.

"I can't tell you," she insisted. "I just can't." She was shaking her head as she spoke. "Please, please, I knows it's a lot to ask. But I need, I need some time alone. To think. In private. Please." If Carlisle had made such a request I would have turned him down flat, but there was something about Esme's demeanour that unnerved me. She was shaken up. So scared and, for whatever reason, ashamed.

"Please," she asked again. Underneath her frantic attempts to keep me out I heard her considering her options. She was deciding between staying here and having to simply deal with it (whatever it was) or leaving.

"Esme, you can't leave," I told her.

I didn't even want to imagine what that would do to Carlisle.

"I won't," she promised. "Not right away anyway. I just need time to think. Please." She looked like she was on the verge of tears (even though it was an impossibility).

"OK," I agreed. "I'm going to go and hunt."

"Thank you," she whispered. She was almost shaking with relief.

I turned on my heel and ran out the door. Though it would have been easy to stay within my mental hearing range and listen in without her knowing, I continued to run until the world was silent around me. Whatever it was that had her so upset, it was clearly deeply personal – the very sort of thing I usually tried my best to avoid hearing from her or Carlisle.

The silence was golden. Ever since Carlisle had brought Esme home there had been so little of it, as I had lost the wonderful moments when it was just me and no other thoughts in the house. And with a newborn in the house I never got the chance to hunt alone. Though I supposed there would be nothing but silence once I had upped and left as I intended to do once Carlisle and Esme came to their senses. Which had to be any day now. After all, if Esme and I were playing a game of strategies over who got to stay I was helping her win just as much as Carlisle did when she played him at chess. But despite all that, the idea still didn't sit comfortably with me. In the days before Esme had joined us I had quickly grown bored of the silence after awhile. I wasn't looking forward to having to deal with it permanently. Of course, I could always do what Carlisle had done and go to university or get a job, but just like him I wouldn't be able to interact properly with my classmates or colleagues. I would be alone, just like he had. The very thing last thing, I was certain, he had intended when he changed me.

I had often tried to imagine how he had dealtt with such intense loneliness but I could never comprehend it. I had given it even more thought after my recent decision and still didn't understand it. But it had been enough to remind me exactly what it would be like for me once I left.

_Maybe such drastic action isn't necessary at this moment at time. After all, it's the last thing Carlisle will want me to do. And Esme will feel guilty. So what's the point if I don't even really want to?_

I shook my head as if to shake away the thoughts I didn't want to think about. Instead, I concentrated on the present and tried to figure out what had got Esme so fired up. I came up with nothing, however, and so decided actually hunting was a more useful use of my time. I ran north until I came across a mountain lion, which were always good sport, and considering I had hunted just yesterday with Carlisle and Esme I was hunting as much for the sport as for the blood.

This particular lion put up a good fight but I managed to take it down without so much as ripping my shirt. It was a long way off from the early days where I had come home from every hunt covered in blood.

After I had buried the lion's carcass I began to meander around the woods aimlessly. I wondered if Esme had had enough time to think yet as I was quickly growing bored. I glanced down at my watch and realized Carlisle would arrive home soon. I wondered if he would be greeted with the same bizarre welcome I had and even if he was perhaps the reason for it.

I came to an abrupt stop, freezing up. A sudden flare of panic spread through me as I remembered what I had seen in the living room. I had been concentrating so deeply on Esme I hadn't really given it much thought at the time.

_The fire. She had lit the fire._

Without a second thought, I was rushing as fast as I possibly could back towards our house. There was a good reason the fire was never lit in our house. Carlisle was a pyrophobic, a fear stemming all the way back to his human life and the public burnings his father had been so fond of. Even now, two and a half centuries later, he avoided fire at all costs.

As I neared our home I was surprised to hear two minds within our home. Carlisle must have got home earlier than I had expected him to.

I heard the fire crackling in the background of Carlisle's mind, but for once he wasn't concerned by it. I quickly learned why.

I came to a standstill as both sets of thoughts fully registered within my mind. I had seen it coming for ages, but it still managed to take me by surprise.

Checkmate. Esme had won our little game. But maybe I had been wrong and there had never been any game to began with. Maybe, this time, there didn't have to be a loser. Just three winners.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are greatly appreciated :)<strong>


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